


Rose & Sunflower 3: A Different Perspective

by Risukage



Series: Stardew Valley- Rose & Sunflower [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Character Development, Family, Friendship/Love, Humor, M/M, Music, Romance, Slice of Life, novel writing, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 208,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risukage/pseuds/Risukage
Summary: Not much is known about Elliott prior to him moving to Pelican Town, as before he meets up with Lysander and makes friends with him and several others, he is a bit of a recluse and oddity.  Starting a year before the beginning of Rose & Sunflower: The Music Within, this goes into his past and why he chose to leave a life of comfort for a lonely existence on the coast of the Gem Sea.  Get a cup of coffee and join me as we have a look at events from his point of view, with a different perspective.This story updates weekly, depending on how much coffee and sleep I've had. :)





	1. Dissatisfaction and Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rose & Sunflower: The Music Within](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656886) by [Risukage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risukage/pseuds/Risukage). 



> //Hello, and welcome back! For some reason you're interested in my strange little series, and seeing a THIRD book are probably expecting a continuation after _Vox Arcana_. Sorry, no. The short of a long story is that I was reading other stories here one night, and someone was writing a nifty story on Elliott's backstory. I got a kick out of it, and the next day drove 10 hours home from a business trip. I had planned to mentally block out more of _Vox Arcana_ at that time, but instead found myself inspired by the other story, and thought about how I'd not done much character development and interaction between some people early on in R &S 1. Thus I ended up drafting a good six or seven chapters for a new story, this one told from Elliott's side. So yeah, it's not so much a "new" story as it is a retelling of the first book with more details. If this bores you, I don't mind! This is mostly to get it the hell out of my head and let myself feel better about not doing enough in the beginning of book 1 'cause I lacked the confidence to really expand on it.
> 
> If you're new to all of this mess, go here for book 1: [The Music Within](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7656886/chapters/17434180) (I know it didn't have a subtitle before, but that was BEFORE I made sequels), and book 2: _[Vox Arcana](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8196697/chapters/18777652)_.
> 
> Like it? Hate it? Let me know. At this point I've already navigated the rapids of insanity and am swimming about happily in a tranquil pool on the other side. Join me, the water's nice!
> 
> Also, go on over and have a read of the story that inspired this madness. It's quite good, and the least I can do is send them a bit of love: [Write or Wrong](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8487724/chapters/19451590).//

Pacing restlessly back and forth, Elliott was lost in his thoughts, until a familiar and friendly voice brought him around again.  
  
"If you don't stop that you'll wear a rut in the floor." He paused and half-turned to address the person in the doorway. His brother, Charles, was leaning against the frame, wearing a slightly teasing smile. Elliott returned it, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
"Then it would match my mood and mental state. Good afternoon, Charles, it's been some time. It seems that being a new parent has made exorbitant demands on your time and energy." The other man chuckled at his reply, running fingers through short, auburn-colored hair that was a vibrant contrast to Elliott's strawberry-blonde, looking very tired.  
  
"That it has. We have very nearly forgotten what uninterrupted sleep is like. But then, we knew what we were getting into, and mother has been _such_ a wonderful source of support. She offered to watch the baby for the day, so that Jeanette could get a day to herself for a bit. When I told her of mother's offer she cried with relief for a bit. She immediately felt quite bad about it, but I do not blame her at all. For as trying as it all has been on me, it is nothing next to what she's been through, and she more than deserves a bit of time to herself."  
  
Elliott moved over to offer his brother a hug of support, which was warmly received. Despite the initial difference in appearances (their hair, and Elliott's deep blue eyes to Charles's deep green ones), there was an obvious similarity in their faces, as well as the way they carried themselves. It never ceased to perplex Charles that though he was older, Elliott was a few inches taller, and he frequently lamented this when growing up, as well as his self-perceived lack of talent compared to his younger brother. Strangely, Elliott never lorded any of this over him, and instead felt that he _didn't_ have talent at all, that he had to work so very hard to make headway at anything.  
  
Further, he always felt uncertain in any task he'd attempt, as while Charles pretty much had his future laid out for him in taking over the family business, Elliott was free to choose his own path. This had created friction between them for a while, until they talked about it and found that they envied each other for the things that they themselves didn't like. They had begun to work together a bit more at that point, Elliott learning more about the business from Charles, and Charles trying his hand at whatever artistic medium Elliott was attempting at the time. This gave them greater confidence in their "assigned" endeavors, and having a peer of sorts helped them gain perspective. That support never waned, and Charles saw that Elliott was bothered by something.  
  
"What's up, little brother? You've never been good at hiding your troubles, and something clearly weighs heavily on your mind." Sighing again, Elliott sat down heavily on the bench at his piano.  
  
"What am I doing with my life? I've got my college degree but I've yet to do anything with it. I have employment of a sort but it is hardly enough to live off of. I still desire to develop that novel, but I have only the drive and no ideas. I am quite fortunate that our parents were amenable to my moving back in after college, but I feel so useless for it, as though I am unable to make it on my own." He chuckled darkly at himself, shaking his head. "I am fooling no one, I really am unable to make it on my own." Crossing his arms across his chest and staring off at a nondescript point on the ceiling, Charles considered this.  
  
"I do not think that that is true. You are quite capable, as I recall you being quite self-driven during your time at university, and you did have a place of your own. It was modest, but you were able to work and study, balancing both with each other. I think what you lack is not skill or motivation, but inspiration."  
  
"And therein lies the problem. I've no idea how to go about attaining that inspiration. Were it as simple as requesting a muse I'd have done so already. If you have any suggestions I am glad for them." Clapping him on the shoulder, Charles gestured to the door.  
  
"Let us have a coffee and discuss it, then. Perhaps a quorum will yield results."  
  
Downstairs in the kitchen, their parents, Elizabeth and Phillip, were seated at the kitchen table, going over business forms, statements of payment, and other such matters that go into running a business. Looking up, Elizabeth favored them with a fond smile, which was often perfectly mirrored in her sons.  
  
"I see that you have pried him from his habitat, well done, Charles. Good afternoon, Elliott, you've been up for some time today but have yet to have made your presence." He returned only half of her smile, still feeling rather downcast.  
  
"We were discussing the nature of my ennui and irritation. At least with myself," he remarked, preparing coffee for himself and his brother, as their parents already had theirs, "and he suggests a change of scenery, not self. I do not find this idea unpleasant, yet I am unable to fathom the method in which to enact it." Putting down the paper he was examining and removing spectacles from in front of the same deep green eyes that his eldest son had, Phillip tapped the bow of them against his lip as he thought about this statement.  
  
"You've always been fond of staying home. Even when at university I do not recall you leaving your apartment for anything other than class or work. Charles has a valid point, and I think it's an idea worth pursuing. As for where to go, perhaps something completely out of your comfort zone, something strange and unfamiliar. I do not wish to visit unpleasantries upon you, but it is often through adversity that one finds strength." Tucking auburn hair behind her ear, Elizabeth considered this as well.  
  
"Likewise I do not want to give the impression of kicking you out, but they both argue a strong position. And while you are reticent about travel, I do recall you being fond of the ocean. We went a few times when you were both young, and you were enamored with the location. Oh, where was it, now, it's been quite some time." The four of them thought about this for a minute, until Charles grinned and snapped his fingers.  
  
"Ah, yes! I remember, that little town off of the Gem Sea, not that far from here. Oh, what was its name... Gull Town? No, _Pelican_ Town. A lovely, vibrant little community." Elliott presented his brother with a cup of coffee and sat to sip his own as he thought about this.  
  
"That's... Yes, you are correct, I remember as well. It's been a _very_ long time now that I think of it, but those memories are pleasant. It would certainly be a change, from a large city to a small town. Although... No, that is my own prejudices and conceptions coloring my opinion. There's no reason to believe that they would be hostile to visitors, particularly since I recall such delightful events in my past."  
  
"You know, I do have a bit of time to myself," offered Charles, "perhaps the two of us could go and make a small trip of it. I'd love to go revisit the place, and I'm certain that you'd be far more comfortable having a friend along. Although, damn, I hate to leave Jeanette right now."  
  
"She can stay with us," Elizabeth stated, resting her chin on folded hands and elbows on the table, her dark blue eyes crinkling at the corners with endearment for her children, "I think that you need a bit of time to yourself as well, and with Phillip and I to help Jeanette will be more than cared for." The relief on Charles's face was obvious, and he immediately flushed and apologized for his eagerness in taking her up on the offer. Laughing brightly, she waved a hand at him.  
  
"Do not fear offense, I was a new mother once myself, and I was also grateful for any help and time that I could get. Jeanette is no different, and I am delighted to see you both continue to assist each other so readily. I will send her a message, you two can go ahead and make plans." Pulling out a smartphone from her pocket, she sent off a text message, just in case the other woman was asleep or busy. Charles and Elliott retrieved their own phones to pull up maps, figuring out their journey.  
  
"We seem to be about two hours out," Elliott observed, tapping and rotating the map, "so it is close enough to be approachable but not so far that I will be isolated. It is a bit late in the day for an excursion, so if we prepare today we can leave early tomorrow and have the entire day to explore and investigate. Though I should also consider other locations in case this one doesn't pan out."  
  
"I was thinking the same thing. I'll have to run home to assemble a bag. You should, too. Not a lot, just an overnight suitcase, just in case. This could just be a one-day trip, or we could be out for a while."  
  
"Do you really think that we'll be gone that long?"  
  
"Not necessarily, but if it does come down to that I'd rather have such items on-hand rather than wish I had them when I need them."  
  
"Fair enough. Well then," he sighed for the third time that day, holding his cup with both hands as he looked at the data his phone displayed, "it looks like tomorrow I'll be searching for a new home. And strangely, I find myself excited about the prospect."


	2. The Road First Traveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Charles's car might, _might_ , be based on one of mine. Maybe. : P//

Early the next morning Elliott picked up his suitcase and walked out to Charles's car, which had just pulled up. It was an elegant, two-door coupe in champagne-gold, though Elliott recalled that sort being called "sparkling silver" for some reason. His brother stepped out of it to wave at him from over the roof and opened the trunk, his own suitcase stashed there as well.  
  
"Are you ready for a day of home searching? Well, reconnaissance, anyway, I doubt we'll find anything immediately, and there's so much to do to in order to move to a new place."  
  
"I've only had experience with that twice," Elliott replied, putting his cargo in the trunk and opening the passenger door, "moving into the apartment at university and then back home recently."  
  
Charles got back in on the driver's side and fastened his seat belt. "Wait until you have to buy a home. Right pain in the ass, it was. It was worth it after it was all over, but light help me, I'm so glad that we won't have to do that sort of thing again for a very long time." Docking his phone into the center console, he tapped the phone a couple of times to send the GPS route through the vehicle speakers and put on some music for a bit of background sound.  
  
Buckling himself in, Elliott rested an elbow on the door and his chin on his fist as he considered this. "I recall your frustrations, but I do not have the finances to purchase a home, though my credit rating is acceptable. Fortunately, I do not require much space, and studio apartments are slightly less expensive than those with a single bedroom. Oh, it occurs to me that I'd have to leave my piano behind, I'm certain that close neighbors would not enjoy my practice at any hour of the day. Perhaps a home _will_ have to be in my future at some point."  
  
A quick check of the route showed about two hours to their destination, and Charles put the car in gear and drove off. "A car might be as well. You haven't needed one for ages, but depending on where you'll be and how far basic necessities are... Your license is still good, right?"  
  
"Yes, I renewed it last year, and I am a capable driver. Which reminds me, my thanks for being patient when teaching me to drive a manual. It is much more interesting than an automatic, I understand why you prefer them."  
  
"Which is why it's such a bother that they're so hard to find sometimes," Charles grumbled, turning onto a main road and shifting to fourth, "we were looking for a decent four-door saloon as it's much easier to fit a car seat and everything in one of those rather than this, but one that was decent and didn't break the bank was almost as bothersome as getting the house. I further admit that this trip will be lovely to get the opportunity to open the taps a little. It's not a sports car, but it is sporty, and I've not had the chance to put it through its paces in a little while."  
  
Smiling with humor, Elliott tapped the handle above the door. "So I should be reaching for this often, then? As I recall this vehicle has a bit of a rally pedigree, though I doubt that our path will take us through that sort of terrain."  
  
Charles's smile was cheeky. "Shall I find us one?"  
  
They bantered back and forth merrily, stopping off to grab a coffee before they got too far along, and caught up on each other's goings-on and events as they traveled. The two hours went by quickly, the landscape changing from a modern city to suburbs to pristine land. Winter was barely over but the smell and feel of spring was already in the air. The countryside was mostly varying shades of brown, with intermittent patches of green, slowly recovering from the snows that had covered and smothered it just a month previous. The GPS directed them to turn off eventually, onto a two-lane road that appeared to lead off to nowhere in particular. Only five minutes later, however, signs of a town (as well as signs _for_ the town) appeared, and Charles eyed the on-screen map to see where they needed to go.  
  
"Not quite sure where to park, it looks rather small, and I don't feel quite comfortable trying to navigate the streets there just yet. Besides, it looks small enough that we can cover a good amount of it on foot, and we _are_ here to investigate anyway. Ah, this looks promising."  
  
He turned off just past the bus stop onto a road going south. The road going east into town was paved, but the path west was hard-packed dirt and appeared to go to a farm in dire disrepair. Parking out of the way, Charles turned off the engine and got out, having a look around.  
  
"Yes, this should do. Doesn't seem to get any traffic so we won't obstruct anything, and puts us close to the town. Ready for a walk?"  
  
Charles was dressed a bit better for it, having traded out his usual suit and tie for nice jeans, a turtleneck, and a sports jacket over it. Elliott suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, not having considered this, and still sported his tailored shirt, waistcoat, and slacks. His double-breasted coat over it made it a bit less "posh," but he still wished that he'd thought of a more appropriate form of dress. However, he didn't have much else _but_ that style, so it was a bit moot. Putting on his gloves against the early-spring chill, he nodded.  
  
"Let us go and have a walk down the lane of memories. We visited during the summer, yet there is something familiar about the scent of this place all the same."  
  
"You too? I wonder if it's the ocean. Where is it from here, I wonder," Charles mused, pulling out his phone, "we're here, so- Oh, not too far off, it's a bit south. Well, let's go. You're hesitating." Hiding a slight flush of embarrassment under the collar of his coat, he followed after his brother and strode into town.  
  
The remains of winter were still in evidence, as though the snow had melted here as well, the greenery was slow to make its presence again, leaving the plaza in front of them a stark white of tile and masonry. Elliott forgot his self-consciousness as he gazed around, quite taken in with the scenery, attempting to dredge up very old memories and match them against what he saw. It was mid-morning, and the townsfolk were going about their business, paying little mind to the newcomers. Except for one person. An older man, wearing a rather faded and worn hat with suspenders over a flannel shirt and old but serviceable trousers, stood up from the bench he was sitting on and walked over. There was a friendly smile under the fully grayed mustache, and curiosity in eyes that seemed to be younger than the rest of him.  
  
"Hello! Pardon my intrusion, but we don't often get tourists here. I am Lewis, mayor of Pelican Town. Is there anything I can do to help you with your visit?"  
  
Charles waited for Elliott to say something, then sighed with fond patience and nudged him before addressing the other man. "A little and a lot, I think. My brother is looking for a new home, and we're out scouting potential locations. We recalled visiting here before in our youth and it holds good memories, so it seemed prudent to drop in once more."  
  
Bushy eyebrows nearly disappeared under the lip of his cap as Lewis thought about this. "Then I welcome you once again to our humble community. The beach was long a popular destination for city residents, but that tapered off long ago. Ah, I forget much in my old age. What did you say your name was?"  
  
"Oh! My fault entirely, I never offered it. I'm Charles," he offered, extending a hand, which was warmly received.  
  
"Elliott," he said, after Lewis turned to him, accepting the greeting as well.  
  
"Good to meet you both. Well, I don't want to interrupt important business, but if there's something I can do I'll be here in the plaza a while."  
  
"Actually, you could be of invaluable help," remarked Charles, "it _has_ been a long time, and we just got here a few minutes ago. If it isn't too much of a demand on your time, could we borrow your expertise and learn a bit more about this place? No sense in going blind when we have a knowledgeable guide, right?"  
  
Silent out of shyness, not sullenness, Elliott listened to them converse, having a look around. It was quite a lovely place, and he felt himself relaxing already. Perhaps Charles was correct, it was environmental and not personally mental that was his issue. He was pulled out of his reverie when he heard them talking about housing.  
  
"Well, most of the homes are that way," Lewis said, gesturing south-west from the plaza, "with a couple of small exceptions. Like the carpenter up the mountain. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around her building that lovely home up there all by herself, such a remarkable woman. The few who don't live directly here have ranches or cottages farther southwest in the forest, but- Oh, that's right, there's that old cabin at the beach that's been unused in ages, but it's been unused for ages, so I guess that doesn't count."  
  
Elliott looked south, seeing the road lead that way to a bridge over a river that ran east and west. "So the ocean is that way, then? And the mountains to the north?"  
  
"Yup. Well, basic tour is you're in the main plaza. Directly north of us is the general store, and to the left is the medical clinic. We're quite lucky to have Doctor Harvey here, small communities usually lack that sort of thing. A bit west of that is the path up to the park and the community center, though neither see too much use anymore. Take the road that goes north next to the general store and it'll take you up the mountain to our carpenter, as well as a very nice lake that is popular with local fishers."  
  
He paused for a second to smile at that thought, then continued with his impromptu tour. "That building over there is the saloon, and it's a nice place to visit and get to know people. Let's see. Ah yes, keep following that road east over the river and you'll hit the blacksmith's, and south of that is the library." Perking up, Elliott interrupted him with a question and excused himself as soon as he did so. Lewis chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Quite alright, you're one of the few that seems to appreciate it, then. It's only those of my generation that frequent it, most of the younger generations prefer to use the internet to look things up."  
  
"It is a useful tool, but there are few things as lovely as a book, a coffee, and a comfortable chair," Elliott remarked, lost in his thoughts again. "Ah, apologies, I keep interrupting."  
  
"Like I said, not a bother. It warms my old heart to see someone take an interest in our town! Where was I... Right, that road going west from the housing area goes into the Cindersap forest, which is pretty much uninhabited, except for Marnie's ranch and Leah's cottage. There's also a farm just north of there but..." He trailed off, looking rather sad, and shook his head. "Memories are in abundance here, it seems. Lastly, going south over the river takes you to the coast. That's about it, I'm afraid. It is a _very_ small town."  
  
Feeling the breeze, Elliott looked south again, feeling a strange call as well. "Would it be a bother if we visited the ocean first? It's been some time, and I'd like to get that itch out of my system, so to speak."  
  
"Not a bother at all, Elliott, I want to go have a word with Willy anyway. Oh, he's our local fishing expert. He lives right on the pier, for reasons I still can't fathom. Well then, onward!"  
  
Lewis walked between the brothers as they took the path south, offering information and answering questions, though it was Charles who was doing most of the talking. On the other side of the river the road paralleled it heading west, and not very far south of it the dirt gave way to sand. Elliott turned up the collar of his coat against the sudden chill wind off of the ocean that rippled his hair, but he somehow didn't find it unwelcome. Breathing deeply of the salt-tinged air, he held shut his collar, now wishing that he'd brought a scarf, but not noticing it much all the same. The gentle, rhythmic, roar and crash of the waves was soothing, and though his memories were of playing in the sand, it was the water that now held his attention. He stared out over the ocean, finding a strange sense of inner peace and smiling to himself. Was this what he sought? He wasn't certain yet, but he was fairly sure, and for the first time in a little while felt a sense of confidence.


	3. Inquiries and Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //*Scratches nose.* Yeah, I've got nothing interesting to say today. Other than that I'm getting a kick out of writing for Elliott and Charles together. They seem to play off of each other well, and Charles helps define Elliott's character as well as give him the motivation/drive to change his lot in life. I'm actually glad that he didn't get any screen time in book 1 (except for the last chapter, heh!), as I'm really able to take the time to set up a good relationship here that I wouldn't have been able to do the first time around.//

It wasn't the water that got Lewis's attention, as he saw one of the other townsfolk nearby, sitting on the sand and idly helping his younger brother build a sand castle.  
  
"Good morning, Sam, it's a bit cold for you and Vincent to be out here, isn't it?"  
  
The blonde, spiky-haired man looked up at being addressed, and shrugged as he stood, seeing that the mayor had guests. "Sorta, this time of year is kinda crap. The snow's all melted so you can't play with that, but it's too cold to have a good time here." He took a handful of sand and tried to form it into a ball to reinforce his point, which simply drained through his fingers. "So, who're the new dudes?" he asked, dusting off his hands.  
  
"Visitors, one of them looking for a place to stay."  
  
Sam was incredulous. "Here? Dude, why? There's nothing here!"  
  
Lewis was about to admonish him when Elliott laughed. "I don't know about that, there is little here, but what exists is fascinating. You have a curious community and one that I see is vibrant and full of history. Further, it is a lovely setting with a diverse environment. Long have I lived in the city, so I suppose that I am foolish to find such a varied locale surprising, but all the same I find myself desiring to learn all about it as soon as possible." He suddenly turned scarlet and hid behind the collar of his coat again, this time due to embarrassment.  
  
Laughing brightly, Sam's face was nearly bisected with a smile as bright as the early-afternoon sun. "You really wanna drop your fancy lifestyle and move out here? You're crazy! I like that. I'm Sam, cool to meet ya." He offered a hand and Elliott was almost too surprised to take it.  
  
"Oh, hello then. Elliott. Why do you say that I am 'fancy?' I'm not offended, but-"  
  
"Puh- _leeze_ , you talk all posh, you're wearing expensive shoes, and you walk like someone that doesn't have any cares." He laced his fingers behind his head and shifted his weight to one leg. "Not taking the piss outta you or knocking your opinions, just saying that you look way too upscale for this place. If you wanna move out here power to you, dude, but there's also not a hell of a lot in the way of work. I'm working part-time at freakin' _Joja Mart_ , for Yoba's sake. It's nice here but you're screwed for a job."  
  
"That shouldn't be a problem in the short-term," Elliott replied, "I have some savings, and am currently working on a novel. Once it is published I shall be far more stable, but..." He sighed as the weight of reality settled in on him. "I've yet to even begin. That is why I desire a chance of scenery, to find the inspiration and guidance that I need to start the project of which I dream."  
  
Sam shrugged again and shifted his weight to his other leg. "I get you, dude. Me 'n Sebby 'n Abby are putting together a band, but we still don't know what kind of music we're gonna make. Though some days it feels like most of my energy goes to prying Sebastian out of his basement and Abby out from her parents' thumb and I don't have anything left for practice. But I'll get there, I mean, I'm totally awesome, I've just gotta get everyone else to realize it, right?" Elliott was taken aback by Sam's straightforward confidence, while Charles covered a laugh with a cough, and Lewis bristled his moustache at him.  
  
"I'll be more convinced when a week finally goes by that I don't hear of you getting into mischief. What would your father think?"  
  
Turning a bit red with anger, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and glared off into the distance. "Maybe if he ever comes home I can find out."  
  
"Oh, who lives there?" Charles asked, gesturing at the shack on the pier, sensing a sensitive topic about to be broached, "I think you said something about a fisherman?"  
  
"Yes, I did need to stop in and talk to Willy, thank you for the reminder. If you'll excuse me a moment I'll be back to continue your tour shortly." Sam hadn't moved, clearly unsettled but not upset. Not quite sure what to say, Elliott was saved having to think up a topic when Sam's younger brother waved a shovel at him to get his attention.  
  
"I need help with this, it's not working right."  
  
"Hunh?" Looking up, Sam noticed his request and smiled faintly, walking back over to assist. "Sure, Vincent, what're you trying to do? Oh, hey, I'm not suddenly ignoring you two," he said, now addressing the visitors, "but I did promise to spend time with him today and all, so..."  
  
Elliott smiled in a friendly manner and adjusted his coat. "Do not worry, we intruded on your time and activities, if there is an apology to be made we are the ones to offer it."  
  
"Heh, cool. Good luck on your book, dude!"  
  
"I wish you the same in your endeavors."  
  
Following Lewis's path to the pier, Elliott and Charles strode out onto the wooden structure, feeling a gentle sway as the Gem Sea buffeted it. Charles turned around to have a look back at the town from this perspective and noticed that he was the only one to do so.  
  
"You seem pretty enamored with this place already."  
  
"I have long scoffed at the notion of 'love at first sight,' but I am quite ready to confess that I may have been wrong. There is something about this place, a tranquility I've never felt before. What I felt previously was the childlike fondness for something. This is mature love, a deep respect for something. It is too soon to make a decision, but I should like to explore this town further."  
  
"Same. I don't quite have the same feeling you do, but I understand it. I hadn't expected to be successful on the first try, either. If this pans out for you then it'll be what you need. Already you sound more inspired. Oh? Finished already?" he asked Lewis, who closed the door of the shack behind him.  
  
"Just a quick check on local businesses. Winter is always difficult for everyone, and as mayor it's my duty to ensure that everyone's needs are taken care of. And now that the needs of the residents are met, I can take care of yours. Is there anything else I can help with?"  
  
"Actually..." Elliott, hedged, looking at the cabin, "I recall that being inhabited years ago, but now it seems to be unoccupied. May I inquire as to why?"  
  
"You're thinking that the previous owner passed away? Nah," he laughed, slapping him on the arm, "Willy just got tired of living so far from the water's edge and just moved into his shop. Says that he sleeps better with the rocking of the pier anyway."  
  
"Oh! Well... If we can further impose on you, I'd like to see the rest of the town, but only if you aren't busy!" He had returned to his shy, self-effacing self again, and Charles sighed and shook his head, but _for_ his brother, not _at_.  
  
"He offered, so we're not imposing."  
  
"That you aren't. I don't often get the chance to boast about our modest home, so you'll excuse me if I talk your ear off." He was cut off as his stomach growled, and he coughed in embarrassment. "Hrm, though I should stop the words coming out of my mouth and put some food in instead."  
  
"A fine idea. We had some coffee earlier this morning but nothing since. Is there any place local we can dine?"  
  
"The saloon is open now, and we can drop in for a fast lunch as well as meet a few other people. Like I said, it's been a while since we had visitors."  
  
Chuckling behind his hand, Charles favored the other two with a smile. "This appears to be a good day for the both of you. You get to show off the town, and with every word Elliott becomes more enthralled by it."  
  
"I-! I don't mean to be a bother-"  
  
"Have you any idea how long it's been since I've seen you so enthusiastic about something? I'm happy for you right now. And you've always been so hesitant. Be bold! Do something daring and spontaneous for once. It'll do you good."  
  
Smiling softly, Elliott hid it behind the collar of his coat. "I might just do that."  
  
  
The saloon was nearly empty, save for the bartender, his assistant, and one woman alone at a table, munching on a salad. She paused in her meal to toss a long, orange braid back over her shoulder, then picked up the book she had set down and resumed reading. Upon the arrival of the three men, she glanced up, put down her book, and regarded them with interest.  
  
"Hi, Lewis, who're the newcomers?"  
  
Taking off his cap, Lewis nodded to her. "Hello, Leah, they're visitors, though one might be interested in living here."  
  
Giggling, she put her chin in her hands. "My money's on the blonde one, what with that blush and all." She giggled again as Elliott turned even redder. "Okay, sorry, that was mean. I'll leave you alone, you're probably busy."  
  
"We're just grabbing a bite to eat before we continue the tour of town. Mind if we join you?"  
  
"Oh! Sure!"  
  
"We won't be a bother?" Elliott asked, earning a thump on the back from his brother.  
  
"If it was she'd have said something. Have some confidence in yourself! First, though, let's get acquainted with the owner and order something to eat."  
  
Gus greeted them enthusiastically, but not as much as Emily, who appeared nearly giddy at the chance to meet new people, and took their orders in between asking them rapid-fire questions that they almost were unable to answer before the next one was asked. Finally served, they joined Leah at her table, who had put her book away.  
  
"So what makes you want to live out this way? I mean, _I_ know why it's great, but I want to hear your story." Elliott hesitated and Charles nudged him, which seemed to be the impetus he needed to open up.  
  
"I have been attempting to work on a novel for quite some time, but I have so far been unsuccessful. My brother suggested a change of things, and we both recalled good memories of this place when we were younger. It stood to reason that it might still be as pleasant now, and thus we are here to explore and examine. I must confess that already I am captivated by this place and feel the stirrings of a story within me after so long without result."  
  
"So you're a writer? Wow! I'm an artist, so while you paint with words, I paint with, well, paint. I'm not sure where I was going with that one."  
  
Laughing at the failed joke, Elliott found himself enjoying the conversation. "Not yet a proper writer, as I have not had anything published, but I have aspirations of such. And you, an artist? What is your medium of choice?"  
  
"Like, all of them. Painting, sculpting, carving, all of it. I'm not making much money, but I'm just not that sure where or how to sell it, and it is kinda hard to let go of a favorite piece, y'know?"  
  
Conversing merrily as they ate, Charles happily took a back seat to supplying input and let his brother take the lead. This place _definitely_ was good for him, he hadn't been this gregarious in ages. Finished with lunch, Leah departed in the direction of her cottage, offering the invite to drop in at any time, and Lewis led the three-person procession up the mountain. It was a decent jaunt, especially after lunch, but a beautiful one. The placid, vibrant, deep blue lake was particularly lovely, and Elliott and Charles could easily see how it was a favored fishing destination.  
  
Since they were already in the area, Lewis once more begged an indulgence to step in and check in with Robin, the carpenter, same as he had for Willy. Like the other townsfolk before her, she was interested in the new arrivals, though she apologized for half of the household being out and about; her husband and daughter were off in the mines collecting samples for an experiment they were working on, and they ran into Sebastian as he emerged from his basement bedroom to get a fresh thermos of coffee from the kitchen. Upon being informed of Elliott's intentions, he frowned in confusion.  
  
"No offense, but here? Really? I'm saving up to get my ass outta here, and you want to move in?" He saw the dark look from his mom and sighed. "I'm not telling you that your choice is bad, I just don't get it, that's all."  
  
"The man on the beach said something similar," Elliott noted, tapping his lip, "Sam, I believe?"  
  
"Heh, not surprised. He wants to get away, too, but I'm pulling in several times the income he is and even I don't think I can afford to live in the city right now."  
  
"Perhaps the two of you could pool your funds. Would living as roommates be suitable?" suggested Elliott, having considered the same thing when he was working on his degree. Sebastian winced at the thought and shook his head.  
  
"I thought about that once, and then I remembered the couple of times I stayed overnight at his house. He's a great friend, but I swear to Yoba I'd straight up _murder_ him inside of a week if I had to live with him."  
  
After excusing themselves from each other, Lewis retraced their path down the mountain, and Elliott took the time to properly enjoy it this time around. It was getting on late afternoon, and the shadows got longer as the light retreated below the horizon. Stretching and yawning, Charles rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Today was a lot of fun, but I'm already tired. I'll need another coffee for the drive back."  
  
"...Do you think you feel comfortable making it alone?"  
  
At first surprised, Charles glanced at his brother with concern, then smiled. "Thinking of staying the night to get a feel for the place at all hours?"  
  
"I... Yes. Already I have been made to feel quite welcome, and I would like to see this place after a night's rest. I must know if what I feel is the byproduct of euphoria or if I truly am content."  
  
"I'm good to go alone, that is, if there's even a place to stay."  
  
Lewis nodded and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. "The second floor of the saloon is also an inn, but it doesn't get much use anymore. If you plan to stay here the night then I'll talk to Gus and get something set up for you. Erm, do you have any luggage?"  
  
"Ah, yes, my suitcase is in his car."  
  
"Where'd you park?"  
  
Charles's eyes unfocused as he thought, remembering the morning. "Just by the bus stop, where the road splits and goes east over here and west to...a farm? I think?" There was a momentary flash of sadness that Elliott and Charles almost didn't see, but chose not to remark on it.  
  
"Right, I know where your car is, that's pretty close. Do you have a lot with you?"  
  
"No, sir, just the one suitcase."  
  
The sadness was completely gone as Lewis laughed. "That's quite alright, Elliott, no need for formalities. I may be the mayor, but every time someone calls me 'sir' I feel like I should wave a cane at them and tell them to get off of my lawn. I'm not _that_ old."  
  
  
Hugging Charles as he retrieved and set down his suitcase, Elliott was surprised to notice that he didn't feel any sudden sense of unease or trepidation. He remarked on this, and Charles cuffed him on the shoulder, happy for his brother.  
  
"You know, I really do think you're going to be fine. I'll keep the sound active on my phone, so if anything comes up give me a call. I'll be back some time tomorrow to pick you up. Sounds good?"  
  
"It sounds excellent. Thank you again. You may have just given me the key that I need in order to unlock the door of success."


	4. Resolute Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I really have lost my damn mind. I was tinkering with something and idly began generating ideas. Brainstorming, as it were. They were interesting enough, but nothing that I can use in this book, and I'm NOT writing a fourth. Besides, it's all little one-shots, and then I had the idea for a one-offs series full of these little vignettes, tentatively titled "Random Acts of Shitposting." TELL ME I DON'T NEED TO DO THIS, PEOPLE DON'T CARE. I mean, the NSFW Chapters has been a fun project, and it was an interesting experiment, but once this book is done I really, REALLY need to let this universe end. Just...shut up, brain, focus on finishing this book and I'll give you beer again.//

Elliott was momentarily perplexed when he woke, finding himself in comfortable yet unfamiliar surroundings. Then he remembered the previous day's excursion and decision, and pulled his knees to his chest as he looked idly around the room, examining his own thoughts and feelings.  
  
 _I still feel no hesitation or concern. It is still early yet, and I have been here less than a day, but already I find this town growing upon me. There is so much to learn and explore, and so much has already been inspired within me. This could be the nirvana I seek in which to attain enlightenment._  
  
He sat there for a little while longer, taking the time to sort his thoughts and make a plan for the day. Once certain of what he wanted to do, he got up and took his time getting cleaned up and dressed. He wasn't out to impress, directly, but he definitely did want to make a good first impression, and he always took care and pride in his appearance. Suitably ready for the day, he re-packed his suitcase and went downstairs, suddenly wondering if anyone would even be about. Fortunately, since there was a guest staying, Emily had come in early in case he needed anything, something for which he gratefully thanked her. Smiling brightly, she waved it off and once more put her chin in her hands and elbows on the bar.  
  
"What can I get for you? I figure you're hungry, and I can make most anything on the menu right now."  
  
"Ah, to be honest, I do not normally eat this early in the morning. If I could trouble you for a cup of coffee, however..."  
  
"Sure thing! Cream and sugar?"  
  
"Cream yes, but no sugar."  
  
"Got it, be right back."  
  
He had smelled it when he had come downstairs earlier (it is such a lovely, distinctive scent!), and he had found that to be what he craved and not calories. Presently, she returned with two cups, one for each of them, with the pitcher of cream, and once more like the day before, grilled him relentlessly on his decision to move.  
  
"Y'know, a lot of people will probably tell you that you're crazy for wanting to live out here, but don't listen to them. It's a bit slow and small here, but that's part of the charm! If you need something you can go to the city and then come back."  
  
Chuckling, Elliott shook his head and sipped his coffee. "Do you know, I was thinking of something similar, and more than one person expressed their disbelief that I would walk away from my life as it is. Do not get me wrong, I do love the city and genuinely prefer it there, and I am so very grateful for what I have, but at the same time, it is where I have lived all of my life. I lack perspective and experience, which can only be attained through expanding my horizons. In less than a day here, however, I already feel myself becoming more than I was. I want to hesitate, to hold back and wait to be certain, but that is all that I have ever done and I have not grown because of it."  
  
"You sound like you've already made the decision to stay," she grinned, draining her cup, "want another?"  
  
"Yes, to both of your statements," he replied, handing over the empty vessel, "though I have not yet determined how I shall go about obtaining housing. I do not require much, something the size of a studio apartment shall suffice. But of what I have seen there appears to be little that is unoccupied."  
  
Emily returned with coffee, nodding. "Yeah, nobody new's moved in since... I can't think of when, actually. And thinking of all of the houses here, yeah, they're all being used. No apartments here, either, there's never been a need. Wow, I don't know what you're going to do, then. Maybe Lewis might have an idea. Roommates with someone?"  
  
He laughed at this, recalling his statement to Sebastian. "I am not averse to the idea, but as you said, who around here could take me in? I will not intrude upon someone's home because I failed to plan ahead."  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers, "that cabin on the coast! Willy moved out of it ages ago, but it's still in good condition. I think he just uses it for a bit of storage or something. Maybe you can sweet-talk him into a price."  
  
"Do you have powers of telepathy? I inquired about it as well yesterday, and..." His gaze became unfocused as he stared into his coffee, "the ocean, it calls to me somehow. It is alive, roaring at times yet whispering at others. There is a musical pulse to it to which I nearly find myself dancing in time." He looked up and cleared his throat, blushing a little, and took a deep drink. "Ah, pardon me, I began to wax poetic."  
  
"Are you kidding? You can just _do_ that? Your book is going to be totally great!"  
  
"You...really think so? But I've no plot nor characters nor a setting in which to put them."  
  
"You've got the drive and the skill, all you need is the ideas, and it sounds like you're already starting to get them. Tell you what, if I'm wrong, I'll... I'll...grow out my natural hair color!" This strange idea made him laugh brightly and he apologized for it, which was again rebuffed. "I mean it, I think you can do it. This place is full of artists and creators! I design and make clothes, Leah does all kinds of art, Sam is a songwriter, Abigail draws like a pro, my sister is into photography, Maru makes all of these cool little machines and devices, and Sebastian is a software engineer. You'll fit right in!"  
  
"That...makes strange yet logical sense. I can easily see how such a locale gives rise to such creativity in such a diverse quantity. But once again I encounter upon the dilemma of lacking a place to which I can call my own. Perhaps I shall broach the option of that cabin after all..."  
  
They conversed a little while longer, and he left the saloon with a brightness to his stride, wandering about town with no destination in mind. Then he remembered that Lewis had mentioned a library and went in the direction it should have been, and smiled when he saw a large building on the east side of the river that ran north and south on the edge of town. It wasn't a large library, definitely not if one compared it to ones from Zuzu city, but for a town of this size it was remarkable and in excellent condition. He was surprised by someone getting his attention (apparently for the second or third time, as he hadn't heard them at first), and apologized for it. The other person wasn't offended, and introduced himself as the librarian and museum curator.  
  
For a few hours Elliott conversed happily with him, asking about the town and its history, customs, legends and stories, the flora and fauna native to the region... Eventually Gunther chuckled and requested a break, as though he was delighted to have such an apt and enthusiastic visitor, he did need to find a quick drink and snack, as talking had rather worn him out. Elliott departed the library at this time, his mind made up. Crossing the bridge back over the river, he saw someone familiar tending the flower bed in front of an old, large, but well-kept house. He waved and quickened his stride.  
  
"Mayor Lewis, good morning!"  
  
The older man tilted up the brim of his cap to identify his caller, and brightened when he saw the blonde man approach. "I think it's closer to 'afternoon,' but it is good all the same. How was your night's stay?"  
  
"It was excellent, and today has been just as good. I have made up my mind. I..." He paused to take a deep breath and steel himself, checking one last time for any hint of trepidation-  
  
-And found none.  
  
"I wish to move here. It is sudden, but I have considered it continually since I arrived yesterday, and I have yet to arrive at an answer that gives me pause. Save for one... The issue of a home. I do not know if it is possible, but I should like to inquire about the possibility of purchasing or renting the oceanside cabin for my own use."  
  
"The-? Heh, finally it'll see some use. Willy's just been using it for a bit of extra storage space, a pity to waste a nice home like that in that way. Let me wash up real fast and we'll go and have a talk with him."  
  
"Please, take all of the time that you need, I have taken too much of it as it is."  
  
"You're fine, young man, your enthusiasm makes me feel younger, and you've no idea how valuable that is."  
  
Fifteen minutes later they were at the little shack on the pier, and though curious about Elliott's proposal, the fisherman wasn't averse to it. Stroking his beard, he pondered the offer and glanced out the window to the shore. "Gotta say it'd be nice ta see the place in use again," he mused, "it's lovely but too big, and I like the sound and feel of the waves b'neath me. Too many years wi' naught but a deck under me feet an' the blue sky above. Just gimmie a few days ta shift me cargo elsewhere. Prob'ly need ta sell most of it anyway. If I've not seen it in years I prob'ly don't need it, yeh?"  
  
"Whatever you ask, I insist upon compensating you for it."  
  
"Ye've not even been inside yet and ye're already makin' a deal? 'Ave a look in first."  
  
Elliott turned a deep shade of red, embarrassed at his overenthusiastic oversight. "Oh! That is a good idea. I was so caught up in the idea of it that I completely neglected the logistics."  
  
Leading the way with the keys, Willy unlocked the door, fumbled for the light switch, and was surprised to see the lights come on, as though he hadn't expected it to work. "Ah, right, been paying a bit of 'lectrical upkeep, in case I needed to get at summat. Means we'll need to be sure the water and gas and all are good, too, I remember I shut _those_ off before I closed up."  
  
The interior was dusty and sand-coated, but in good repair. The roof was still in excellent shape, and the doors and windows had good insulation and weatherstripping to keep out the dirt and elements. It was only two rooms, a main room and a smaller bedroom with a sectioned-off bathroom. The main room was the size of the room he had back with his parents, and already he found himself mentally placing and sorting his bookshelves, as well as his piano, and he smiled as he realized that he'd be able to bring it and not have to worry about disturbing neighbors. He explored silently for several minutes, examining everything, leaving small imprints in the dust wherever he went. Lewis and Willy talked between themselves about something, but Elliott was oblivious to it.  
  
"Name your price," he said, returning from the bedroom to look around again, "whatever it is, whatever favor or material wealth I will give it to you."  
  
"Yer heart's really set on this place. Heh, well then, far be it from me ta turn down such a heartfelt offer. Let's off ta the mayor's for a cup 'o tea and work out the particulars."  
  
Around Lewis's table they drew up a contract of sale, as Lewis had a record of all deeds and property ownership in town. This took a surprisingly short amount of time, and soon Elliott was outside in the late afternoon sunshine, calling his brother.  
  
"Charles? How are you?"  
  
"Quite well, yourself?"  
  
"Excellent, actually. If it's not too much bother, I'd like to bother you for that pick-up. I have news that I'd like to share."  
  
  
Moving was a rather swift affair, as most of what he was bringing was books and shelves upon which to put them. The piano was also technically large, but it was more bulky and unwieldy than anything else. Everything fit neatly into one van, and he had hired a moving company to do so, as though he wasn't weak despite his proclivity for indoors activity, he didn't want to risk damaging anything. The final items were packed, and as the movers checked the last of their paperwork and plotted a route to Pelican Town, Elliott and Charles joined their parents outside.  
  
Hugging Elliott happily, Elizabeth stepped back to take his face in her hands, smiling with satisfaction. "I'm quite proud of you, my dear, this is a large step and you've taken it with confidence. I'm certain that you'll be successful, as you have put both your mind and energy toward this. Do give us your address once you're settled, we must visit some time."  
  
Phillip also favored Elliott with a hug, pleased with his youngest son's progress. "You will do the family name proud as you make one for yourself."  
  
Blinking back tears, Elliott nodded. "Thank you, I'll make you both proud. You've both done so much and supported my dream, even though it has never come to anything. Please be patient a little longer."  
  
"Take all the time that you need, dear, this is important to you."  
  
Turning to his brother, Elliott squared his shoulders and picked up his satchel, containing his laptop and other small items. "Shall we depart? This might be the last drive that we take together for some time."  
  
"If you're ready. You know, it appears that you won't need car after all. You always _did_ go to great lengths to prove me wrong!"  
  
The two hours to Pelican Town practically flew by, and Charles listened with a smile as Elliott talked at great (and exuberant) length. At some point Elliott realized that he was dominating the conversation and apologized, turning a bit red for it. Charles laughed and told him not to worry. Like their parents he was happy for his brother, and was glad to hear him have such interest in something. They arrived just ahead of the van to open up the cabin, and they assisted where they could in unloading. It was a surprisingly swift affair, and though boxes of books were stacked haphazardly about, the shelves were in place, the boxes with clothes and other linens in the bedroom, and the piano safely transported and tucked against the wall.  
  
Elliott sank into his computer chair at his writing table and Charles dropped heavily onto the piano bench, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around. "Got to say I'm impressed. And almost a little envious, you ended up 'buying' a home faster than I did!" He grinned at Elliott's look of embarrassment and leaned over to cuff him on the shoulder. "You know, one day you'll learn to take a joke. And really, this is quite nice. You've never needed a lot of room to yourself, and this feels comfortable but not cramped."  
  
Reclining in his chair, Elliott relaxed, feeling the tension of the move finally draining away. "It really is. It's perfect for my needs. I have no excuse, I must achieve my dream, because so many people have provided me resources and have placed their faith in my success. This is not just my dream anymore, it is shared amongst those who have helped me get this far."  
  
Later that evening, after Charles had departed and Elliott had taken a meal at the saloon (he'd pick up groceries and the like at the store the next day), he enjoyed a long, hot shower, feeling the ache of moving so many heavy things, as well as the stress of the move, wash away. He breathed deeply of the hot, humid air and stretched, feeling joints pop and muscles stretch, knowing that he would sleep deeply and well. Drying himself off but only toweling his hair to "damp," he carefully hung up the towel, turned off the lights, and staggered to the bed, feeling the grasp of sleep tighten slowly around his mind. Shortly after pulling the warm blankets over himself to offset the chill of early spring (the heat worked but it hadn't been on that day while they moved things in with the door open), and hugged a second pillow close as he relaxed further. Inside of a few breaths he was asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular, as even his mind was too tired to be creative.


	5. Boundless Enthusiasm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //No commentary of note. I'm heading back out of town for business, so apologies if this chapter isn't quite as good, I got caught up in packing and need to leave first thing in the morning. I am gonna need SO much coffee for this drive. :D//

He awoke to the sound of rain on the roof, but it sounded strange. It wasn't bad, just...unfamiliar. Sitting up, he blinked as he looked around. The bed was his, but-  
  
Oh!  
  
 _That's right_ , he thought, sitting up, _this is my home now. ...My home. Such an uplifting and reassuring thought._  
  
He sat there a while longer, looking out the window at the rain and listening to it as it drummed a random pattern on the roof.  
  
Eventually, he decided that he'd lounged about long enough and got up to get dressed. A beige waistcoat and trousers with an emerald green tailored shirt under it was his attire for the day, and he carefully brushed the tangles out of his hair that had formed in the night. Once that task was done, he reached for the simple silver hoop earrings that he always wore. They had been a birthday gift from Charles the year that he'd had his ears pierced, and he'd worn them ever since. It had been a whim to do it, to be honest, as he had been looking to change his image a little bit, but not _too_ much, and found that he rather liked the look. He wasn't sure what style he wanted, though, and still hadn't purchased anything to replace the piercing studs with by the time it was to remove them, so his thoughtful older brother solved that dilemma for him.  
  
His attire and appearance sorted, he went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, putting the grounds and hot water in the press to steep while he sought out a mug and the cream. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he sat down with the prepared drink in his computer chair and checked the weather forecast for the day. It was going to rain all day, and he glanced over at the door and smiled, having hung an umbrella on the coat rack by the door. Savoring the caffeinated beverage, he rinsed the mug and left it in the sink for later as he strode across the room to the door. He shrugged into his coat, buttoned it up, put on his gloves, reached for a tote bag that he slung over his shoulder, grabbed the umbrella, and stepped outside.  
  
Once again he took a moment to take in the scenery and weather. The ocean was a deep, slow counterpart to the bright, swift pattering of the rain. Opening the umbrella, he stepped off of the porch onto damp sand that shifted slightly under his shoes, leaving deep footprints behind, a visible trail from his cabin to the edge of the bridge over the river. He walked slowly, taking in the view and enjoying the town being painted in soft, muted grays. It already smelled of green things finally sprouting and growing, but everything was enhanced and enriched, and he found esters and notes that he hadn't caught earlier. Breathing deeply as he walked, he found himself in a walking meditation, and eventually arrived at the general store.  
  
Under the awning, he closed his umbrella and shook it off before stepping inside, looking for a place to set it, and gratefully hanging it up over a waterproof mat that had been placed there for that reason.  
  
Pierre greeted him and then squinted as he looked across the store. "Oh, hello, I don't think we've met yet. You just moved here, right?"  
  
Striding across the store, Elliott offered a hand, which was accepted. "Correct, I just got in yesterday. Nothing is unpacked, but I will take care of that over time. However, I thought it prudent to fill my pantry before my closets." They conversed a little, pausing as a violet-haired girl bounded down the hall from the back. She was wearing a rain coat and held an umbrella in one hand and a backpack slung over her other shoulder. Pausing to examine Elliott, she made a noise of recognition.  
  
"Hey, you're that new guy that Sam was talking about, hunh?"  
  
"Correct. I am Elliott."  
  
"Hey, Abigail. Sorry to run, but I'm meeting him for band practice and I wanna get going before the rain comes down any worse."  
  
"By all means, do not let me hold you back."  
  
"Cool. Bye!" She was only slightly younger than him, but her energetic enthusiasm made him feel twice as old. Chuckling at this, he resumed his conversation with Pierre, learning of his family (of whom Abigail is his daughter), and met Caroline, who brought up a box of items to put on the shelves. After introducing himself to her, he excused himself to pick up the groceries that he needed, placing them in the bag that he had brought. He purchased his selections and returned home, intending to put everything away and then take the rest of the day to explore and visit. He would cloister himself away soon enough. For now, however, despite the drizzle it was still a lovely day and he wanted to have a long, pleasant walk.  
  
Later that afternoon he grew tired from his extended exercise and went home again, feeling quite refreshed from the weather and tranquil solitude. His mind buzzing with ideas, he hastily made a quick lunch and a cup of coffee, opened his laptop, and typed away furiously. This barrage of ideas didn't slow for several hours, and though he didn't have a story or a plot yet, that would come. For now, he let his muse work through him, compiling and transcribing his thoughts digitally, as fast as his fingers would let him. Finally, he was forced to push himself away from the desk and stand up to stretch and walk around. He went back outside to have a look at the weather, which was coming down twice as hard as it had been when he got back home.  
  
Home...  
  
He smiled again, leaning against the cabin wall, staring out over the ocean. He felt so at peace, so relaxed. His mind still bubbled with ideas, though not as furiously as it had earlier, and rubbing his hands to ease the ache from extended typing, put his dishes in the sink to take care of later and returned to taking notes. This lasted him until evening, when he looked up because it was dark enough indoors that the brightness of the screen was a bit harsh against the dimness of the room. He rubbed the back of his neck, now feeling an ache there from sitting so long in the chair, hunched over the keyboard. Saving his work, he closed the laptop screen, stood up, pushed his chair back in, and let his fingers dance across a few keys as he walked past the piano to the bedroom. He was still a little tired from the previous day, and he _had_ done quite a bit of walking and then writing.  
  
Undressing for sleep, he plugged in his phone on the bedside table and folded his arms above his head as he leaned back into the pillows and once again listened to the rain on the roof, same as that morning. The soft, arrhythmic sound was hypnotic, and he soon drifted off, hearing it and the ocean sing in his dreams.  
  
  
The next couple of days played out much in the same way, though the clouds had cleared and the sun shone brightly. He still didn't have anything concrete for his book yet, but there was no rush. It would come to him. Already he had a small wealth of notes and had already begun expanding upon some of them. Shortly, he had a routine of getting up for a walk in the morning (and if he was short on groceries it was to Pierre's and back), visiting the library until lunch, returning home, and then writing the rest of the afternoon and evening. By the beginning of the second week he began to become annoyed with himself that he still didn't know what it was that he wanted to write, but cleared his mind of those thoughts. Frustration would be of no help, it would only block the flow of ideas. He read hungrily of the local legends and stories, of its history and that which grew and lived there. Despite this, no book of his own took shape. Perhaps he was going about it the wrong way? But what was the correct way?  
  
He realized partway through his second week there that he'd not gone back to the saloon and immediately felt a pang of guilt. That evening he returned to it and apologized profusely to Gus for not attempting to contact him sooner. He was immensely grateful for the lodging that he had provided that one night, as well as Emily's assistance (who thanked him and patted his hand, telling him not to worry about it), and felt better for having tied up that proverbial loose end. Their help had allowed him to find a home there, it would just be _rude_ to not offer his gratitude. Since she hadn't seen him since that one morning, she poured the drink that he ordered and chatted with him about what had happened in the intervening time. He expressed concern that she was working and that other customers might need something, but once again she waved it off. She knew the "tells" for when someone required something, and proved it when she stepped away to pour another beer for Shane, who took it with a grunt and returned to his corner on the far side of the bar from Elliott, quite staunchly ignoring everyone else.  
  
Elliott resolved to come in there more often. He'd not been social much at all at university, despite the diversity of courses he'd taken (and the nature of his family's business!), and he vowed to change that here. Slowly he began to get to know the other residents, and though still shy, he made the effort to try to open up and meet everyone. It began to grate on him, however, that he could not quite yet call himself an "author" as he didn't have even a draft of anything, much less the start of a novel.  
  
Scribbling on a note pad that he kept in one pocket, Elliott sat at the bar one evening, the elbow of the other hand on the bar top and his chin in his hand. He didn't notice Lewis take a seat next to him until he'd called his name twice.  
  
"What? Oh! Mayor, how good to see you. Pardon the obliviousness, I was simply writing down ideas that had just come to me. I've had many, and they're good, but nothing speaks 'book' to me just yet." He sighed and put down the pencil to pick up his drink.  
  
Bristling his moustache, Lewis considered this as he ordered a drink from Emily. "Well, keep at it, my boy, you're a clever sort and appear to have the drive to do anything you put your mind to. It'll come to you eventually. But I was actually dropping by to remind you that the Flower Dance is tomorrow. I don't know if anyone else has mentioned, but it's the first big festival of the year, and it's always a lovely time."  
  
"I do not recall if... Wait, yes, it is on the calendar at Pierre's. I had completely forgotten. I was so wrapped up in myself and my own activities that I neglected those of the community. Um, what is this event, then?"  
  
"It's the festival held at the spring equinox, celebrating the end of winter and everything coming alive again. It's right around this time of year that the flowers bloom magnificently, too. There's a traditional dance as well that's done by our younger residents. A pity you didn't know about it sooner, you could have volunteered."  
  
Blushing a bit, Elliott held up his hands in defense without thinking about it. "I-! Ah, no, I could not, sorry. I am a writer, not a dancer. Such public displays of artistry are... I do not have the skill or the confidence to do such a thing. But I will attend and see the culture of this lovely town. I have spent many hours already at the library and I am simply fascinated by my new home."  
  
"You sound happy with your decision."  
  
"Never before have I felt so satisfied and confident with my choice. I shall not regret this, it is exactly the opportunity and environment that I require in order to succeed."


	6. Initial Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Two comments today. First, the injury that Sam mentions is something that my husband did as a kid, so IRL OUCH. Second, yes, I totally _did_ reference that. Self-referential self-insertion FTW. XD//

The weather forecast had given a chance of raining, but fortunately, the skies were clear and the air crisp.  Elliott enjoyed both as he departed his home and followed the road west into the forest.  He’d not spent much time out that way, as he still wasn’t quite as comfortable in a “natural” setting, though he made a mental note to change that; the scenery here was just as lovely as it was in town, and he could already feel new ideas tugging at his mind.  Still nothing for a novel, not yet, but that would come.  It was a bit of a jaunt, but he finally reached the clearing in the woods where the festival was set up and marveled at all of the bright colors.  Flowers were finally blooming, and they decorated every surface, both horizontal and vertical.  Taking out the notepad, he began scribbling down thoughts and impressions, quickly losing himself to his imagination.  It wasn’t until someone poked him in the arm that he realized that someone was trying to get his attention.

 

“Elliott!  Hey!  You goofy airhead,” Leah giggled, “is this place really _that_ fascinating?”

Smiling, he put away both pad and pencil and offered a hand in greeting.  “My apologies, and you are astute, I am intrigued and inspired by what I see.  It is so colorful and bright here, such a lovely contrast to the stark whiteness of winter.”

“So I take it that your book is going well?”

His face fell a little and he looked away for a moment before he answered.  “Not…quite.  As I had hoped, I have a vast variety of notes, but while many are good for little short stories or vignettes I’ve nothing that I would want to call a _book_.”  He sighed, then shook his head and straightened his shoulders.  “But I shan’t despair, it will come to me soon enough.  I’ve not yet been here a month, so I shouldn’t be impatient.  Perhaps short stories are exactly what I need in order to work my way to a full-length novel.”

Clapping her hands with delight, Leah bounced a little with vicarious happiness.  “Oh, I just know it’ll be wonderful!  Well, if you ever decide that you need a break, drop by my place.  You passed by it on the way here, you know.”

“I did?  Then-  Oh, you are in that place right by the river’s edge?”

“Yup!  Just a stone’s throw away from Marnie’s.  And that’s literally, too, found that out when Vincent and Jas were playing one day and, well, luckily nothing broke, but that kid has a hell of a throwing arm on him.  I don’t think he was expecting it to go that far.”  She giggled again behind a hand and nudged him.  “Hey, I’ve gotta go catch up with Robin real fast.  Enjoy the festival, and don’t be a stranger, 'kay?"

“Certainly, I will take you up on your offer at some point.”  She jogged away, waving, getting the attention of Robin, who had just arrived with Demetrius.

Retrieving the writing implements again, Elliott tapped the pencil against his lip as he thought, then found a bench and had a seat while he made a few more notes.  His handwriting was remarkably neat for being so small and fast, though he did make a very large error when he suddenly felt someone impact the back of the bench with a grunt.  Dropping both items in surprise, he quickly turned around to identify the source of the disturbance, and saw Sam sitting on the ground, rubbing the back of his head as he winced, but giggling.  In his lap was a…what was that sport again?  Oh, gridball.  Sam looked up and offered it to the person walking over to him; a tall man with a muscular, athletic build, messy brown hair, and wearing jeans and a varsity jacket.

“Dude, nice throw, Alex.  You put some serious speed behind that thing.”

“Yeah, but you’re crap at catching.  I’ll never get a decent practice partner at this rate.”

“I _did_ catch it, there was just a bench in the way.  Oh, hi Elliott, sorry about that.  You okay?”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” he replied, picking up his belongings, “though I must ask the same of you.  That was quite a thump.”

“It’s all good, I’ve had worse.  Like the time I fell out of a tree and broke my arm so bad my wrist touched my elbow.”  Elliott made a face of sympathetic agony, imagining that sort of injury and unconsciously reaching for his own arm.  The arrival, Alex, inspected him with interest, his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side.

“Hey, you’re new.”

That I am, of just a couple of weeks.  Elliott.”

“Alex.  Dang, you look rich, what house did you manage to buy?  I didn’t think that anyone here was selling.”

“I-!  No, I didn’t-  Well, not quite, anyway.  I bought the cabin on the coast.  And I’m not rich, just…  I am comfortable.”

Wrinkling his nose, Alex looked him up and down again, and Elliott tried not to wilt under the scrutiny.  He didn’t dress that expensively, did he?  Stylish, yes.  Professional, definitely.  Elegant, of course.  Scratching his chin, Alex shrugged and dismissed that train of thought.

“So what do you do, then?  There’s not a hell of a lot in the way of work here, either.”

“I…”  The words didn’t even finish forming before he discarded them.  Gripping the notepad, he sighed again and sagged a little.  “I am a writer.  I desire to be an _author_ , but at the moment I’m still searching for inspiration.  I have some notes here and there, but they’re only fragments or good for something small.”

“Oh.”  Alex seemed disappointed, not interested in literature, and not sure how to continue the conversation.  “So…do you do any sports?”

It was Elliott’s turn to be flummoxed for a conversation-continuation subject.  “My apologies, no.  I do not perform or follow sporting events.  I rather prefer artistic pursuits.”  There was an awkward silence as Sam got to his feet and tossed the ball back to Alex.

“You look like you were workin’ on something before I bashed into you.  Sorry about that!  We’ll take the game elsewhere and let you finish your stuff.”

“Not enough time for that,” Abigail remarked as she walked up, “we’ve gotta get ready in a few minutes, and if you get messy now Lewis and your mom are both going to have a total fit.”

“Awwww, it’s already time?  ‘Kay, I’ll get going, she already got mad this morning ‘cause I slept through my alarm.  We’ll pick this up again later, dude.  See ya, Elliott, you’re so lucky.”

“I’m what?  What did I do?” he asked, wondering what he’d missed.

Abigail grinned.  “He hates doing this dance, but he keeps getting volun-told by his mom every year and goes along with it so he doesn’t disappoint her.  I need to get ready, too, so I’ll run into you again at the saloon or something.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Alex eyed Elliott again.  “Why didn’t you volunteer?  You said you like ‘artistic’ stuff.”

He turned red again and tried to hide behind his notepad.  “Light, _no_ , I can’t dance for others!  That’s…  It’s not something I can do.”

With a shrug of resignation Alex tossed the ball in the air a few times.  “Eh, I kinda get you there.  Oh well.  Guess I’ll see you later or something.”

“Have a good day,” he replied, still not sure what to make of him or how to respond.

Twiddling the pencil between his fingers, he found that he no longer had the mood to take notes.  In that case, time for another change of scenery.  He stood and walked around again, letting his mind wander, and soon again picked up his train of thought.  People began to congregate in one area, and he followed, assuming (correctly) that that was where the dance was taking place.  Finding a spot where he could observe unobstructed, he watched, and found it interesting.  He wasn’t a dancer, no, but he did have a “classical” education, which included ballroom dances among others, as well as a few popular festival dances.  This one was one that he didn’t know himself but recognized, and was delighted at this fact.  More notes covered multiple pages, and he finally put away the notepad, satisfied with his work.  He didn’t have an idea for a novel, not just yet, but a couple of short stories?  Yes, start there and use that to practice and learn on for a full book.

When he returned home that night he made a cup of coffee and sat down at his laptop to transcribe his notes, and once done, saved it to open a fresh document.  Sipping the coffee as he ordered his thoughts, he smiled to himself and began framing out a story.  It was short, yes, but it was just a short idea.  At least, it was supposed to be.  It still ended up a short story, but he ended up working on it until nearly two in the morning, when he immediately saved his work and closed the laptop.  Resisting the urge to go and write _just one more line_ , he removed his earrings, undressed and hung up his clothes, and plugged his phone in on the nightstand before turning off the lights.  There would be plenty of time to write tomorrow.

This little story took him nearly a week to complete, and he read it over from top to bottom with a fresh cup of coffee and a well-rested mind, having finished it the night before.  It was…good.  He could see where his writing could possibly improve, but his grammar and structure were solid, his prose was elegant but not pretentious or flowery, and the dialogue felt natural and spontaneous.  Scrolling through his contacts list, he found the address to one of the publishing companies he’d looked up and saved for just this purpose.  This work wouldn’t go to a major publisher, no, but something like a magazine or a place that does collected works from various authors would do just fine.  Still wary of using his family name, he used his first name and then initials to sign it, wondering if he should just go ahead and create a pseudonym.  But that felt as though he wasn’t confident in himself or his family, or his own name.  It was a decision to make later.  Typing up an email, he attached a cover letter as well and sent it off, picking up his coffee and very nearly dropping it again.

_I…  I’ve done it.  It’s not a novel, no, but it is still a written work, and my own.  My words, my story.  What a lovely start, and only after a month here.  Charles was right, and I cannot express enough my gratitude._

Smiling, he reached for his phone and sent off a quick message.  He had just put it down when it rang.  “Charles, hello!”

“Elliott!  So you say that you’ve finished something,” he remarked, and Elliott could hear the smile in his voice.

“Correct.  It is only a short story, one based on some of the local stories and legends, but I found it such a delightful idea that it called to me.  I’ve only just sent it off, so I’ve no idea what will come of it, but still, I’ve done something.  This is more than I’ve accomplished in the last five years.  I owe you more than words can express.”

Charles laughed at his brother’s enthusiasm.  “I just suggested it, you were the one who made it happen.  Give yourself a bit of credit!  When it’s published, wherever or whatever it is, let me know, I’d like to have a read.  You’ve always been a skilled writer, and I know you’ve become even better.”

“I shall.  And thank you again, for everything.”

 

Two weeks later he was working on another short story when he got word back that his submission, “A Legend from the Gem Sea,” had been accepted for publication.  It didn’t pay much, but that wasn’t the point.  He leaned back in his chair and let himself enjoy the sensation of success for a little while.  Then he remembered his family and sent off messages to them all, promptly receiving replies and congratulations.  He promised to ensure that they got a copy when it became available.

Another thing that he nearly forgot to do sent him to the sink to pour some water for the small potted rose on his table.  He wasn’t very good with plants at all, nobody in his family was, but his mother was fond of roses and had a small but nice garden with a few varieties.  He had taken a small cutting of one to bring with him, as a small reminder, and hoped that he would find a place to plant it so that it could properly flourish.  However, it was nothing but sand around his home, and he knew that the salt water from the ocean would kill it, so for the moment it remained in its tiny home.  Placing it back on the table, he glanced at the time and decided that it was as a good a time as any and closed his laptop, picking up his phone as he left.

It was mid-spring already, and the air no longer had any chill to it.  He walked without needing a coat, and he almost felt as though he was floating on the breeze.  The saloon was sparsely populated, as while it was nearing evening it was still closer to late afternoon.  Leah intercepted him as he walked in, following him to the bar.

“Haven’t seen you around in a few days.  What’s up?  But then, I’ve been working on a project, so I haven’t been in much, either.”

He beamed as he ordered a drink, thanking Emily.  “I finally got something submitted!  It is only a short story, but still, it is a beginning.  I’m finally achieving my dream.”

Eyes and mouth wide, she laughed and bounced happily, grasping his hands.  “Oh wow!  You really did it!  And you’ve only been here a little bit.  By this time next year you’ll totally be famous.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, but yes, by next year, I hope…  Ah, my novel will come to me soon enough.  Right now I have several short pieces that consume me, and they should give me the practice that I need as well as a bit of pocket money.  I do not yet know what the future holds for me, but for the first time in so long it looks promising.”


	7. Old Memories and New Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Oh look, internal conflict. Yay, something's finally happening. I need to write longer chapters so you all don't have to sit through ANOTHER SIXTY OF THEM. Nobody wants that.//

It was already early summer and Elliott was surprised by how much time had gone by.  He hadn’t been terribly social, but it was less of a lack of desire and more of a lack of time.  He took his laptop with him whenever he left the house, in his satchel, in case the mood to write took him.  The notepad and paper method had worked for a bit, for small snippets, but more and more he found ideas coming to him that could not be contained by mere marks of graphite upon paper.  He was often at the library, researching and reading something before turning to the laptop to type furiously, the soft clicking of the keys the only sound other than Penny teaching Jasmine and Vincent.

But still...

He wasn’t satisfied.  It wasn’t…right.  It was missing, his story.  It still hadn’t come to him.  Yes, he had material for a number of short stories, and had written another two (one of which he’d submitted off the day before), but his novel…  So much inspiration but none of it what he sought.

_How cruel_ , he thought to himself as he sat at a table in the library, _to be gifted with such skill and eloquence, to have such a font of ideas, yet have none of it be of use.  I am a man dying of thirst in the desert, and though I am given water, it is drawn from the ocean and not the river._

He paused at this thought and chuckled darkly, remembering where he lived.  With a deep sigh he saved his notes and closed his laptop, putting it into his satchel and standing up.  Waving politely but quietly to Penny so he wouldn’t interrupt her instruction, he slipped out of the library.  The air outside was warm and clean, and he breathed deeply of it, trying to clear his mind.  He had been plagued with thoughts of despair lately,  and it was getting harder to push them aside.  Really, there was no call for it.  Certainly, he did not yet have what it is he needed, but he had only been there three months.  And in that time he had already penned- well, typed- three stories, one of which had already been published, though he didn’t expect anything to come of it.

Without a clear direction in mind, he angled north through the plaza toward the park.  Maybe a bit of time by the fountain would help.  On his way there he encountered Alex, heading south, likely to the beach, tossing a gridball to himself.  The athlete regarded him with uncertain interest, not sure how to initiate conversation.

“Hey, uh…Elliott.  Up for a bit of catch?”  He tossed the ball into the air and caught it again for emphasis.  Surprised, Elliott was at a loss for words.  He was quite glad that Alex had given him another chance to talk and try to be social, something that he hadn’t done on his own very well, and realized that Alex was waiting for a response and struggled to reply.

“Ah, I don’t…”  He didn’t know how to catch or throw any sort of ball, least of all that one, and was worried that he’d be terrible at it and be of no use to Alex.  Before he could finish his statement and ask for help, Alex huffed and shoved past him, assuming that Elliott had brushed him off.  “Wait, I didn’t mean-”  It was too late, Alex was out of earshot, and Elliott was too embarrassed and worried to pursue him.

_Damn, this is the second time that I have ruined the opportunity to build a bridge between us.  We likely share no interests or abilities, but that doesn’t mean that I cannot at least try.  Perhaps next time, if there is one._

Continuing his route to the park, his mood improved at the fresh breeze and soft warmth, filling him with contentment.  He found a slightly shaded spot (to prevent screen glare, and he did have fair skin), sat down, pulled out his laptop, and resumed his typing.  It was only an hour before he sighed again and leaned back against the bench, closing his eyes.

_Damn again.  Still nothing.  Only scraps and snippets, fit only for a vignette but not an opera.  What am I doing wrong?  Surely I would have had the slightest idea of what to do, but…_

He closed the laptop again and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to again dismiss the frustration that was slowly generating a tension headache, and noticed Haley stroll into the park, her camera bag slung over one shoulder.  Like Alex, she gave him a look of interest, but it was more bored than uncertain.

“Hi, Elliott.  I haven’t seen you out here before.”

Smiling at the friendly greeting, Elliott tapped his laptop.  “I often seek a place to write where thoughts might gather, and of late the library has been the best location for that.  However, once again I find myself requiring a change of venue.  It does not seem to have produced the desired result, though, and I am becoming rather vexed for it.”

She sat down on the edge of the fountain and opened her camera bag, pulling out the expensive digital device and fiddling with it.  “Well, what are you trying to do?  You said you came here to find inspiration for your book, and I heard that you’d had something published.  Isn’t that what you want?”

“Publication, yes, but this wasn’t a proper book, per se.  It was a short story, and I have another submitted and a third written, but they are not that to which it is that I aspire.  I want to craft a novel, and while I have so many ideas for smaller works, I am unable to even find the spark that will later be the light that guides me.”

Momentarily losing interest in her camera, she set it in her lap and looked at him quizzically.  “Okay, true, but you’ve got _something_ published, that’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Yes, of a sort.  It is a start, and it’s much, _much_ more than I have ever accomplished in the past.  But that is all that I have.  There is nothing grander or greater, and I cannot fathom why this is.  Surely by now I’d have the start of something, even if it isn’t any good and I would have to scrap it for something different later.  Yet wherever I look I see nothing but a void.  I…do not believe that coming here was a mistake, but at the same time…”  He trailed off and rested his chin on his fist and elbow on the arm of the bench, staring off at nothing as he thought.  “A change of scenery has done wonders, I grant that.  I overflow with characters and concepts, but nothing with depth or gravitas.  Nothing that I can develop as though they were a real person and spin a compelling tale.”  He heard a soft “ _click_ ” as Haley snapped a quick picture, grinning as she did so.

“Sorry for the candid shot, but that’s usually when I can get the best ones.  When someone is just being themselves and not posing, y’know?  Are you okay with me keeping it or should I delete it?”

“No, please, photograph what you like.  Your muse whispers to you, and far be it from me to shout them down.”  He mentally retreated inward again, considering her words.

_When a person is candid, when they are their true selves.  Unaware of observation, and therefore completely honest with and of themselves.  Is this what I lack?  In myself?  In my efforts to write?  That I am trying too hard to observe, and I am unable to perceive that which is in front of me?  It is true that I had a greater influx of ideas when I first got here and just let them flow, and now that I am actively pursuing them that well is slowly drying up._

Glancing up, he cleared his throat, embarrassed that he had possibly insulted the second person he’d met that day.  “Pardon me, I did not mean to ignore you, it is just that you said something that made me think, and I was momentarily lost in my own mind.”

With a shrug, she slung the strap of the camera bag over her shoulder and put the camera strap around her neck.  “It’s okay.  I kinda figured.  You’ve got this very distant, focused look when you really lose yourself in your head.”

“…I do this often enough for it to be recognized?...”

“Like, every time you’re at the saloon.  You’ll be talking about something, phase out for a minute, scribble down an idea, and go back to whatever it was as if nothing had happened.  Alex thinks you’re an airhead, to be honest, but I can’t remember the last time he read something that wasn’t a fitness magazine, so his opinion probably doesn’t mean too much.”

With a wry smile, he hid a chuckle behind his hand.  “He is entitled to his opinion, and I do admit to being rather distant at times.”

“Still…  Oh well, I’ll let you get back to your work.  Maybe something will come to you now.  I’m off to get some pictures while the light’s still good.  See you.”

“Until next time,” he replied, waving.  He felt a bit better for the conversation (as well as the vote of confidence), but he was no closer to an idea.  Putting away his laptop, he picked up his satchel and left the park, carefully taking the steps down to the plaza.  Glancing to his right, he saw the road that stretched off to…  Oh yes, that farm that Lewis had mentioned.  And it was abandoned?  He hadn’t been there yet.  Everywhere else was “civilized” and inhabited, even the forest, so it all felt so “clean” and familiar.  Maybe he could find inspiration there…

It was a longer walk than he had expected but still pleasant, and eventually saw two chimneys through the trees.  The hard-packed dirt road led up to an old house in good repair, clearly not lived in for some time.  Nothing was broken or damaged, and the shed next to it appeared to be sturdy as well.  He set down his satchel on the porch and walked around, starting to feel the tug of ideas.  Yes, this place might just do it…

The property itself was quite large, but it was difficult to estimate the exact size due to the enormous weeds and overgrowth that choked the landscape to the south.  A small stream flowed into a small pond, which flowed out again into a larger stream, which appeared to flow south off of the property, and Elliott wondered if it connected with the river in the forest, or if it went another way.  As he walked around the outside of the house itself, he saw a brown mackerel tabby, clearly a barn cat, with a litter of kittens in tow.  She looked at him, flicked her tail, and padded off, having determined that he was neither dangerous nor interesting.  Following her were a pair of tuxedo kittens, another brown tabby, and a ginger one.  He smiled at the tiny parade that disappeared into the bushes and continued his exploration, intrigued by the dichotomy of run-down but kept-up nature of the property.

“Hey!  Who’s there?!” someone shouted, making Elliott jump.  He was around the back side of the house, and the voice had come from the front.  At a brisk walk he completed the circuit to see who it was, and found the mayor looking around, fists on his hips, looking cross.

“Mayor, hello.  I did not expect to see you here.”  This was apparently mutual, as Lewis was astonished to see the writer wandering around the place.

“Elliott?  What are you doing here?  You’re quite a way from your home, and there’s nothing of interest out here.”

“That is why I came this way, actually,” he replied, sitting down on the porch and looking out over the tangled greenery, “I have had little luck with inspiration lately, and leaving the park I had a sudden urge to have a look at this place.  You had mentioned it but not what it was, and I wondered if I might find what I sought here.”

Lewis suddenly looked quite old and tired, and sat down heavily next to Elliott, removing his cap and running a hand through thinning, gray hair.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.  This was my friend’s home since…  Light help me, it’s been in his family for generations.  The von Morgensonnes have always lived here, but his son got married and moved away, and then some years later he moved to the city to be with them and his grandson as his health began to get worse, and…  It’s been too long since this home was lived in.  I had hoped that one of them would return, but it seems that that’s just a dream.  They’ve always been artists, creators, musicians, what have you.  Every generation there was someone who could create with skill, almost as effortlessly as they breathed.  If you find something here that gives you what you need then I will consider the memory of my friend honored.”

Looking around with a newfound appreciation and understanding, something clicked in the back of his mind.  “I recall you specifically not mentioning this place when I was looking for a home.  Though it sits vacant, it belongs to another, one who may yet one day occupy it again.”

“Spot on.  I’m sorry if it’s selfish, but-“

“No, not at all,” Elliott reassured, “I understand completely, and knowing its story, I would not ask for it.  It is not mine, nor will it ever be.  Maybe one day your friend’s son or grandson will return, seeking inspiration as I did, returning to their ancestral home to-“

Ideas.  There they were.  Still not quite a novel, but more than he’d had before, and he could still use them.  Without hesitation he reached into his satchel and retrieved his laptop, typing away the moment that it was open on his knees.  Understanding the sudden burst of energy, Lewis smiled and waited quietly as he looked around, recalling fond memories.  After a few minutes, Elliott saved his work and closed the laptop once more.

“Not quite, not yet, but so close, much more than I have been.  Something about this place does inspire, mayor, I can see how your friend’s family could have been prolific.  Perhaps…  The next time that I am at the saloon and you have the time, could you tell me more about them?  I have learned so much about this town’s history and people, and I recall seeing this name in the records I studied.  I would know as much as I can, if you would regale me with their stories.”

A sad smile became warm as Lewis thought about Elliott’s offer.  “I think I’d like that, young man.  I haven’t thought much about Lex in a while, not since he passed.  I’ll be there tomorrow night.  Drop in and I’ll talk your ear off.”

“I eagerly await our next meeting.”

 

The next evening Elliott brought his satchel with him to the saloon, and he and Lewis took their drinks to a table so that Elliott could more easily type.  The mayor talked at length for hours,  enjoying the opportunity to share with someone else the decades of fond memories that he had accumulated.  This still wasn’t quite the seed of ideas that Elliott needed, but it was fascinating all the same, and he enjoyed the tales as a storyteller himself, amazed that he was able to experience history in living memory like this.  He and Lewis met for a week straight like this, the mayor telling everything that he could recall, and Elliott fastidiously transcribing every word.  After this, however, Elliott began to feel discouraged again, and Lewis was busy with preparations for the summer festivals, so they only met in passing at the saloon.

 

At the end of summer Elliott had submitted another two short stories with a couple more in the working stage (he now had two stories published, and had copies of the magazines in which they had been printed), but still had nothing for his novel.  Every place in town had been explored, and while he had found a sudden rush of ideas each time, it quickly faded after a few days.  He began to have difficulty in pushing back the noise in his head and the cold feeling in his gut, as he began to feel the sharp claws of fear latch on and dig in deeply.

_I...was wrong…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	8. The Cruelty of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //That was a long drive. I'm'a sleep now. Enjoy your update, I'm happy with it. :D//

Like the Flower Dance, Elliott had forgotten about the Luau until the day before it happened. It was a good thing that he remembered when he did, as it allowed him to mentally prepare for the entire town (plus some tourists) to literally show up at his front door. Well, not _exactly_ his door, but very nearly so, as the entire beach west of the entrance to the ocean from the bridge was set up for festivities. He didn’t quite feel like celebrating, but there would be a large enough crowd that he could get comfortably lost in it. Maybe he might find ideas there, one never knew.  
  
To his disappointment, he found none, but the company was pleasant enough, the music was lively, and the communal soup was tasty. There was a moment of consternation when Sam tried to put something nearly-inedible in there, but it was so clumsily done that Elliott was certain that he _wanted_ to be caught. This brought up the question of what his true intention was, and when Sebastian inquired as to what Elliott seemed thoughtful about, shrugged at the writer’s reply.  
  
“That’s the idea. He doesn’t have to do anything after this, everyone else is gonna do the work for him. He attempted a prank, and now everyone’s going to be paranoid all night. I’ve never seen anyone troll with this level of finesse before.”  
  
This amused him somewhat, as though he was not given to pranking himself, he could at least appreciate the level of subtle psychological warfare in which the spiky-haired man engaged. Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail mostly hung out together at the fringe of the event, and Elliott honestly couldn’t blame them. He didn’t feel as though he fit in very well himself, but he wanted to push himself to participate in community activities and make the effort to be social. He had shut himself away far too much back at university, and simply in the past in general, and he was keenly aware that he would become a recluse given the opportunity to do so.  
  
The next day he took his time in waking up, showering, shaving, and getting dressed. It was getting harder and harder to take care of his routine in the morning, fighting the urge to simply roll over and go back to sleep. Putting down the hair brush, he reached for and put on his earrings, then made his way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He held the cup between both hands as he stared into its surface, thinking about…everything… He hadn’t failed, at least not yet, but he hadn’t succeeded either. His drink was nearly cold by the time he finished it, rather lost inside of his own mind, and once again had to work up the mental energy to leave the house for his customary walk. On the way back, still the poorer for ideas, he stopped on the bridge back to his home and leaned against the railing, staring out over the gentle flow of the river.  
  
_Still nothing. So many little ideas, so many handfuls of scraps, but nothing that I can stitch together, not even rags, and I cannot create a tapestry from that. What am I doing wrong? Surely a change of pace should have done it. Every time I go some place different I am struck with a burst of concepts, but not that which I need. Am I cursed to travel endlessly, chasing a mirage through the desert, before I perish alone with nothing but the sand spilling across my fingers?_  
  
Resting his chin on folded arms, he watched the water silently for a little while, allowing his mind to spin in random directions, trying not to force anything, as it did nothing but give him a headache and made him too frustrated to think. With a sigh of weariness, he pushed himself up and continued the last leg home. At least the weather was nice. It was hot, yes, but it was preferable to not being able to feel his extremities, or, more annoyingly, feel nothing but discomfort from them. He didn’t like heavy, bulky clothing, either. As he crossed the sand to his cabin, he undid the top few buttons of his shirt and undid the waistcoat, sitting down on the steps of his porch. He reached into his pocket for his phone, stared at it for a moment as he gathered the energy to dial his brother.  
  
“Elliott? How are you? It has been a little while. I gather that you are busy, then.”  
  
“I… Not quite. I suppose that I have been busy in that I have been pursuing ideas, but for all of my expenditure of energy I am merely running in place, and feel as though I am sliding backwards.”  
  
The voice on the other end grew concerned, hearing the listless sound in his brother’s. “Are you doing alright over there? You sounded enthusiastic last I called, and I recall that you’ve been published again. If it is the same place then I shall have to get a subscription so that I can help in funding your career!” His attempt at levity fell flat, as a smile tugged at the corner of Elliott’s mouth, only to fade as quickly as it had appeared.  
  
“It is the same place, yes, and I have sent two more for consideration, but…” He sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck. “I still have nothing for that novel. I’m trying so hard, I’ve traveled everywhere possible here, I have talked extensively with any that I can, I have spent countless hours in the library… And yet, nothing.”  
  
“Two publications with a possibility of two more is nothing to sniff at,” Charles remarked, “but I do see your frustration. Short stories are simple enough, I guess, but something _epic_ , that takes a lot more and is much more satisfying. Surely there’s something that you can repurpose or expand on?”  
  
“No, I cannot. Perhaps someone with more skill than I could do so from the notes that I have, but despite my wealth of ideas, I cannot combine any of them in a manner that would produce a coherent, cohesive, and compelling story arc. I don’t know what to do, Charles. It is too soon to cry defeat, but yet I have been here several months and I find myself beginning to want for ideas for even the most basic of tales.”  
  
There was momentary silence from Charles. “I’m sorry, Elliott, not just for your situation, but that I don’t have any advice or a way to help you out of it. This is completely out of my element. I’ve never been a creator, and therefore don’t see the world the way you do. I have no idea what I can do, or even if there’s something I could do. Have you spoken with mother and father lately?”  
  
“After the last time that we conversed, yes, but not since then. It is not that I am avoiding anyone, but I do not want to call without news, or, at least, something positive of note.”  
  
“I understand, and I’m sure that they do, too. Give them a call, say hi. They may not be able to help, but we’re all looking out for you and we know that you can do this.”  
  
“Would that I had your enthusiasm once more,” Elliott said, slumping and leaning against a support for the porch, “I will call them, but with nothing of which to speak our conversation will be embarrassingly brief.”  
  
“We don’t care, little brother, we love you no matter what. Talk to us, however you’re doing, we’re here for you.”  
  
“Thank you. I…needed to hear that. I will call them in a moment, then.”  
  
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. Take care, and let me know when your _third story_ gets published, okay?”  
  
That smile returned again for a flicker of a moment. “I certainly shall. Thank you once more. Have a good day.”  
  
He sat there quietly for a few minutes before calling his parents. Like Charles, they were delighted to hear about his current success as well as the works that he had in the queue, and also like Charles, were at a loss as to any sort of assistance, other than moral support. Elliott did not begrudge them this at all, as he knew that he was the only one with creative skill among them, while they were far more talented at business and “useful” matters. As he had with his brother, Elliott promised to inform them when the next short story would be printed, feeling a small pulse of warmth at the positive reviews that he had received from his family about his current works. They were sincere, he could tell, as none of them were given to giving empty praise, and this lifted his mood for the rest of the day, but it had faded by the time that he awoke the next morning.  
  
This sense of despair continued to grow in weight, and by the time the summer was over, Elliott had noticeably changed. On the night of the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, he sat alone on the pier to the far east, just beyond his cabin, which was not used by anyone else. Resting against one of the thick pylons, he gazed out over the water, looking at nothing as the sun set. He started a bit in surprise when he heard someone call his name, and looked up to see Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian approach. This was unexpected, he had thought that he would be alone out there, and expressed this. Sam shrugged and flopped down with a heavy thump nearby.  
  
"We usually always chill out here whenever there's something on the beach. We're kinda the only ones our age, and a lot of the time we're not really into whatever's going on."  
  
Sebastian sat down across from Elliott on the edge of the pier, the ocean to his side, as he pulled out a pack of flavored cigarettes (did Elliott smell strawberry?) and a lighter. After a moment of consideration, he offered one to Elliott, who politely declined, which didn't bother Sebastian any. "You're really looking out of it. Everything going okay?" he asked, lighting the cigarette and blowing a thin stream of smoke, which went away from everyone else due to the way the breeze was blowing.  
  
Pondering the question, Elliott shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest. "No, I am far from it. Rather, I am concerned that I have made a grave mistake. I do not know what to do, and I do not know to whom I can turn for guidance."  
  
"Well, we're here to listen, if that can help," offered Abigail, sitting down next to Sam and putting her chin in her hands. Elliott flashed an ephemeral smile and stared off over the ocean again.  
  
"You all know why I came here."  
  
"Yeah, you want to write a book," Sam said, scratching his nose, "and so far you've got a couple of things published, so it sounds like you're on the way, right?"  
  
"Yes. And no. It is...complicated..." Sighing again, he relaxed his scrunched-up pose. "Long have I desired to be a writer. It is the path that I have chosen for myself, and I fear that it was one chosen on a whim, a mere dream that I have tried too hard to turn into reality. To gain insight into my journey, you must know about my past. I am from a...comfortable family. The family business is not wealthy, yet it is fairly prestigious in some circles. My parents needed an heir, male or female, in order to carry it on, and they got that in my brother, Charles. I was an accident. They were not expecting a second child. Not that I was unwelcome, far from it. I received nothing but love and devotion, same as my brother. However, there was little 'use' for me, so while my brother had his future decided for him, I was free to choose my own." Pausing to sort his thoughts, he ran a hand through his hair as the trio listened politely.  
  
"We both thought this unfair of each other; he resented my freedom, and I resented that I was useless. It wasn't long before we worked together to help reinforce each other's strengths and work on changing our weaknesses. He learned business, etiquette, and accounting, where I branched into the arts and literature. Given our business, I was fascinated by stories early on, and desired to create my own. My early tales were rubbish, I will not attempt to fool any of us, but we all start somewhere. I continued to write as I grew up, in addition to learning the piano and some other skills. But none of them were ones that would allow me to 'work,' to have a job that supported myself. I pushed myself to write that novel that I had dreamed of for so long, but had no luck." He was silent again for a moment as his next thoughts got into a neat queue.  
  
"Then earlier this year, my brother suggested that I try a change of venue. Perhaps I needed to be taken out of my comfort zone, be thrown into something new. For a while it worked, I had ideas. And I still continue to get them. But none are what I need for a _novel_. I do not see a future ahead of me; with the short stories I see simply a small cluster of flowers, but I need the branching tree of a proper book, and I have not yet found that. I fear defeat, not for myself, but for those I love. My parents endlessly indulged in my artistic endeavors, knowing that they had no 'real-world' use, and my brother never ceased to support my efforts to write and create. To fail at this task would be to say that I wasn't good enough, that despite everything that they have given me I was not worthy. I can tolerate failure for myself, but I refuse to bring shame to the family." Shifting to get comfortable, he sighed again.  
  
"I also have gone to great lengths to hide my name. Not because I am ashamed, far from it! It is an honorable name that commands respect. But I have not yet earned that respect. I must earn it on my own merits, so that I can state that I have contributed to it and am not merely leeching off of it. Do I make any sense?" he asked, not sure if he was being clear.  
  
Grinning Sam reached over to cuff him on the shoulder. "I totally get you, dude. It's easy enough to be a lazy shit and just coast on a family rep, but to hide it so that you can earn your status on your own? I respect the hell out of that."  
  
Taking another drag off of his smoke, Sebastian nodded. "Respect here, too. You went _way_ out of your 'comfort zone,' as you said. The way you dress and talk and act says that you're from a good family and a comfortable lifestyle. And you have a family that loves and supports you. Dropping all of that and coming out here to be alone? You're braver than I am, and I'm glad that you have people out there who are cheering you on."  
  
Chin still in her hands, Abigail watched the three of them as they conversed, thinking herself. "I know art is a bit different than writing, but it sounds like you just need your 'muse.' This place is just _full_ of ideas, but I get that you don't have anything 'epic' yet. There are a few large pieces I wanna try to do, but I just don't have the mojo for it, y'know? Just...I have something in mind, but there's no shape or color or texture, just a thing without any substance. I don't know what to tell you. Has Leah had any ideas? I remember that the two of you talk a lot. She's more of the hands-on art than I am, maybe she has something."  
  
"I have not conversed with her in a few days, and even then, we work with drastically different media and therefore different sources of ideas. But I thank you all for your kindness, it really does mean something, and I wish that I had something of my own to offer in return."  
  
"Just your company is good enough," Sebastian replied, grinding out the butt of his cigarette and putting it in a tin, "the migration should be starting soon. Maybe it will give you something."  
  
His timing was impeccable, as soft, neon-pastel lights began to illuminate the bay. Watching silently, Elliott was fascinated, and actually forgot to take out his pad and pencil to take notes, but it was such a lovely and memorable sight that he didn't need it after all. He committed everything that he had seen to his notes that night, and it inspired another short story, but still nothing that he truly sought.  
  
It was the last day of summer. Fall had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	9. The Spiral of Suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I'm actually feeling bad for writing this. Good, 'cause that's called _empathy_. ...Even though he's a fictional character... I get _way_ into this.//

The weather was getting cooler, but Elliott did not yet feel the need to wear a coat. To be honest, he didn't feel much of anything. The despair already wrapped around him like a permanent blanket, and while he still took his daily walks, he chose routes that would allow him to avoid meeting people. It wasn't that he didn't want to be social, it was that he wasn't very good company right now, and didn't want to be a bother. Every few nights he would make the effort to visit the saloon, but other than Leah, Lewis, or the mischievous trio, he was mostly alone.  
  
He was still getting his short stories published, as well as praise from the source to which he was submitting them and a bit of income, but for his novel, still nothing. His frustration grew, a partner to the depression that clouded his mind more every day. So many small fragments, yet nothing that could be cobbled together into a single, long-running narrative. Again, as he found himself doing out of habit, he leaned on the railing of the bridge and stared out over the river for a little while.  
  
Returning from his walk, he sat down heavily at his piano. Maybe a little music would help clear his head. He'd played often when he first moved, but had slowly tapered off, until he couldn't remember playing at all the last month. From memory, he let his fingers move over the keys of their own accord, grimacing as he made continual mistakes. Damn, he couldn't focus. Taking a deep breath to silence the noise in his head, he tried that piece that he'd been working on for a long time. He wasn't a composer, but he did have a small tune in the back of his mind that he wanted to write, but like his novel it never quite materialized. It was unfinished, but normally he had much more finesse. Now it sounded clumsy, and he pushed himself away in a huff, even more frustrated. Pacing the room restlessly, he gave it up after a few minutes to drop into his computer chair and idly scroll through his notes folder, not looking at anything in particular. Elbows on the table, he ran his fingers through his hair, hunched over his laptop.  
  
_What am I doing? Every day I struggle to no avail. What is wrong with me? I have been told that I am clever, creative, competent. Yet this dream I hold is as tangible as candle-smoke. No, that is wrong, for there is no light here. If I admit defeat, what then? What am I? What good am I? I have no useful skills, I have nothing to contribute. The family could give me a job somewhere, but it would be out of pity. I refuse to be a burden upon them like that, but... I have already gone this far, perhaps I should just disappear and save them the pain of disappointment._  
  
His internal monologue was interrupted by a polite knock at the screen door. It wasn't so cold out yet that he felt the need to shut the door and windows, and he got up to let in his visitor.  
  
"Leah, it is good to see you. What brings you in this direction?"  
  
She hefted a bag for emphasis. "You've been looking really down lately, I figured you could use a snack and a chat. Is this a good time?"  
  
Smiling faintly at her compassion, he nodded and walked to the kitchen. "I have nothing _but_ time, so your companionship is welcome. I shall prepare a coffee. Or- You prefer tea, do you not?"  
  
"I'll have a coffee, I'm not going to put you out when I'm the one that barged in." She set the bag on the counter to pull out a box of fresh-baked cookies. "Just swung by the Mullners to drop something off and Evelyn gave these to me. I figured that I should share them with someone who probably needs them."  
  
"Your kindness cannot be described in words, and neither can my gratitude. I am grateful for company, though I fear that I will not be of much myself."  
  
"Well, talk, then," she supplied, putting the cookies on a plate and walking over to the table, "I figure you need to get a few things off of your chest."  
  
Following with two cups of coffee, he offered her his computer chair and took a seat on the piano bench, trading a cup for a cookie. "Only the same things that I have said before and will likely parrot for the rest of my days. I... What am I doing wrong? When I was a child I was a never-ending font of ideas. None of those are applicable anymore, the ones that I recall, anyway, but at some point I lost my imagination. Coming out here did help, it really did. I have a number of short stories published, and that in itself is a success, albeit small. But I find myself more and more frustrated and angry at myself. I fear that my dream is nothing more than a _day_ -dream. A whimsical distraction, a way of playing at being an adult." Sighing, he took a bite and a drink, and Leah nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"I do not fear failing for myself, it is for my family. They have invested so much in me. So much trust and hope and confidence. To have to tell them that I am incapable of this... I do not think that I could handle the dishonor of admitting it to them. Yet I do not know what to do. There is creativity all around me yet I have been unable to coax a muse to my side, and I fear that I am not worthy."  
  
They talked until the food and drink ran out, and while Elliott felt a bit better for it, that sensation faded when he awoke the next morning. This pattern repeated itself all of autumn, where he made the attempt to visit Leah now and then, but that, like his saloon visits, dwindled to once a week, to once every other week, to Lewis visiting him when nobody had seen him for a week at all. He reassured the mayor that everything was just fine, and he was grateful for everyone's concern, but he didn't want to cause anyone trouble. Once he was in better spirits he would socialize more, but until then he felt that he would be terrible company, and did not want to bring anyone else down with him.  
  
It wasn't long into winter when snow fell, and though he was somewhat used to it in the city, it was never as heavy or dense as it was here. The cabin was well-insulated, fortunately, and he had a fair stack of wood for the fireplace (as well as internal heating), so he was cozy indoors. His winter wardrobe was a bit lacking, but he had a few warm layers that served him well on his rare jaunts outdoors.  
  
Noticing that he needed a few supplies, he wrapped a scarf around his neck and shrugged into his warm coat, the one that he'd worn when he first arrived there, and snugged gloves over his hands before stepping outside. The snow was ankle-deep, and he momentarily considered boots, but the thought faded as he walked, buried by others that were much less pleasant. Lost inside of his own mind, he wasn't paying attention as he traversed the bridge, not realizing that there was a thin layer of ice under the snow. Losing his footing, he shifted his weight to try to catch the railing, but succeeded only in landing hard on his left hand. He gaped as pain arced up his arm, almost making him dizzy from the sensory overload. With difficulty, he sat up, his back to the railing as he gripped his wrist, teeth clenched against the pain.  
  
_How will I write now?_  
  
This strange thought caught him by surprise, and he found himself laughing, somewhat hysterically, at himself and his situation.  
  
_Fool. Utter, clumsy fool!_  
  
"Elliott! Are you alright? Oh, stupid question, you're obviously hurt."  
  
The sound died in his throat as he looked up to see Harvey jogging through the snow to him, picking his footing carefully. The doctor knelt and carefully took Elliott's hand, grimacing at his gasp of pain. "Drat, looks like a sprain, but you're quite lucky you didn't break it with the way you fell. Here, can you stand? Good, let's get to the clinic. Lucky for you I was in the area, returning a book at the library." Silently, Elliott nodded, grasping his wrist tightly and holding it close to his chest as he walked next to the doctor, being very careful about where and how he walked this time. However, the plaza had snow without ice, and they made decent time.  
  
Maru greeted them as they entered, and her eyes went wide at Elliott's condition. "Oh! What happened?"  
  
"I fell," he offered, extremely embarrassed, "with any luck I've not broken it, but my luck seems to have run out recently."  
  
Opening the door to the examination rooms, Harvey gestured for him to follow. "Let's get that imaged and be certain. Maru, if you could get it set up?"  
  
"Sure, gimmie just a couple of minutes." Harvey assisted Elliott with removing his glove and jacket, offering sympathetic looks as Elliott continued to grit his teeth against the pain. Finally, they were able to get a quick x-ray, and to his relief there was no damage, just a wrist sprain. A brace was applied, and while he still ached from the residual injury, it wasn't the sharp jab that he'd been experiencing up until then. The offer for pain medication was refused, as though he was in discomfort, he knew his mental state was rather unstable, and feared the possibility of over-reliance on such a thing. Filling out the paperwork (thank the light he hadn't injured his dominant hand!), he thanked them for their help, especially Harvey for being in the right place at the right time, and stepped back out into the cold.  
  
His breath making small clouds in front of him, he looked around to decide where to go next. He did still need those supplies, and it was just the one wrist injured, not broken, so he would be able to manage. Pierre expressed his sympathy for what had happened, and offered to have someone assist him on his way home, but this was also politely refused, as he did not want to put anyone out with the distance that he had to go. Besides, now that he knew of the danger he could be more mindful of it the next time.  
  
He did make it home without further incident, however, and flopped into his computer chair when everything was put away. Sitting there quietly, unmoving for several minutes, he sighed again and pulled his phone out of his pocket, also grateful that he'd not landed on or damaged it in his fall. He hadn't called his brother in some time, and he had little else to do...  
  
"Elliott, it's been a while, how are things? I picked up a subscription since you're getting a story in every month, they've been quite good!"  
  
"Thank you. I..."  
  
"What's up?" Charles asked, hearing the lack of energy in his brother's voice, "you can tell me anything. Talk to me."  
  
Biting his lip to fight the urge to break down in front of his brother, Elliott put the phone on speaker so he could set it on the table, as though he'd not hurt his other hand, it still ached a little as well. "I... I can't do this. I'm sorry."  
  
"You can, we believe in you. Some things just-"  
  
"I can't!" he shouted, not intending to, and felt the hot sting of tears he couldn't hold back any longer. "I have tried, Charles, I really have, but I can't do this. All of you have been simply marvelous, just wonderful in how you've supported and assisted me, but at the end of it all I am a failure. I have been a waste of your time and resources and I know of no way in which I can pay my debts."  
  
"There are no debts or favors to owe," Charles replied, in that supportive tone he always had when Elliott doubted himself when growing up, "we are family, and we support your decisions. I understand your frustrations, you have always pushed yourself so hard to be your best. I...don't know what advice to offer, and for that it is I who am sorry, but know that you're not alone. If you feel that you need to, our homes are always open to you, never forget that."  
  
This kindness was too much for Elliott, and the tears came faster. "I do not deserve it. I cannot thank you enough, but... I must go. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me." He cut off the call and put his head in his folded arms on the tabletop, nails digging into his sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	10. Loud Words and Quiet Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Dang, this poor boy needs a HUG.//

Elliott ignored the next two calls that followed, not out of spite or hate, but because he didn't want to cause his brother any further trouble. However, when it buzzed with a text message, he picked it up and glanced at it, then sent a fast reply. Charles was in a bit of a panic, and was apparently in the middle of grabbing his coat and car keys to dash out the door. Elliott hastily sent a message that he was alright, he wasn't going to do anything drastic, and he apologized for causing him worry. The response to this still carried an air of concern, but he wasn't going to come out unless Elliott asked, however, he would be there in a moment's notice, all Elliott had to do was call, at _any_ time. Elliott thanked him for this, and trudged to the bedroom where he tossed his phone carelessly onto the bedside table and promptly went to sleep, waking up to a near-dead battery that he charged while having his morning coffee.  
  
  
There was nothing remarkable about winter. Elliott spent more time alone in his cabin, though very little of it was used for writing. It wasn't for a lack of trying, only ideas, and every attempt ended in failure, only adding to his frustration. In a strange way, he almost welcomed those moments of anger, because they were moments where he finally felt something other than cold despair, or worse, the emptiness of depression. Some days he'd feel nothing at all, and genuinely considered the option of just rolling over and going back to sleep. It wasn't as if he was useful or needed, or doing anything important. And nobody would miss him anyway, best to just not try and waste everyone's time and energy.  
  
However, what little was left of his pride demanded that he get up and at least make the effort to be presentable and hygienic, and every morning after battling with his own thoughts, would get up, shower, shave, and clean himself up before getting dressed. The brush in his hair did at least provide some small level of comfort, and he found himself putting on the earrings as though he were donning a suit of armor. Not necessarily to protect against others, but as a reminder of those who supported him and made him feel safe and welcome. As though he deserved it right now, with his continual failures...  
  
He did at least make the effort to attend the Feast of the Winter Star, and that did raise his spirits for a day. The bright, colorful lights helped to push back the frigid darkness of winter, and everyone's energetic, festive mood was infectious. For a little while he forgot his self-loathing and conversed with a few people, very carefully avoiding any inquiry about his work, instead asking about theirs and how everyone else was doing. After that event, however, he continued his mental downward slide, and he was aware of it. Yet there was nothing he _could_ do about it. There was no reason to see doctor Harvey about it, because it wasn't an illness, the issue was _himself_. How could one cure that? He also continued to withdraw from the town, as though he valued their company, he wasn't a very good sort himself in return. Best to just stay away and not cause trouble.  
  
Spring finally arrived, melting away the snow and bringing back the light that had been in such short supply the previous few months. Elliott checked something one morning and realized that it had been a full year since he'd moved there. One year. And nothing to show for it. Damn... Damn!! This pushed him even farther into depression, and the energy it took to get up in the morning consumed nearly all of his reserves, leaving him only enough to make a cup of coffee, do an errand if it was called for, and then to stare blankly at the screen for several hours, until he couldn't bother anymore and went to bed. Another week went by without him leaving the cabin, prompting yet another concerned inquiry from Lewis, which Elliott answered politely but unenthusiastically.  
  
Later that day, he got up and restlessly paced his cabin, feeling slightly invigorated by the clean smells of spring filtering in through the windows and front door screen, but otherwise felt little else than the hard clench of self-contempt. Pausing by the table, he eyed the stack of notes he'd set next to his laptop, many old, many new, and all of them useless. _Useless_ , just like he was.  
  
In a fit of momentary anger and pique, he lashed out, scattering the pile across the floor, but caught the power cord for his laptop as he did so, yanking it free and sending the device tumbling off of the desktop. His heart and breath caught in his throat as he reached out to catch it, tripping himself on the power cord, and crashing to the floor, once more landing on his left wrist. He shouted in pain, as though it had healed over the winter, there was still a residual ache, and the flat, narrow edge of the laptop had impacted his hand quite hard. Lying there for a moment, he clutched the victim of his rage to his chest, feeling his pulse slowly come down to normal. It was the only thing that he felt, actually. That last moment of spite and hate had consumed the last of his emotions, and he now felt hollow and carved-out.  
  
He didn't move for some time, until he felt an ache in his shoulder as well from how he'd been lying, and he almost welcomed it, that pain, as a reminder that he was still alive. Carefully, he stood up, set the laptop back in place, plugged it in, and staggered to the bathroom to inspect himself. He hadn't done any visible damage to himself, though the mental mischief was plain for anyone who took more than a cursory glance in his direction. With a deep sigh, he rested his weight on his hands on the edge of the sink, wondering what he should do. Well, Lewis had messaged. Perhaps he should show the courtesy of seeing him in person and thanking him for his concern. It was the least that he could do. Running the brush through his hair one last time, just in case, he grabbed his wallet and phone (also thankfully undamaged!), and walked outside.  
  
It was late afternoon, but still warm (as much as spring could be), and he followed the path that he'd taken so often, yet had led him to no place of note. He arrived at the saloon in a little while, and nodded to those who waved at him in polite greeting. Lewis had his back to him and didn't notice the writer's presence until he sat down next to him.  
  
"Oh, hey, Elliott, looks like you got my message. You doing okay over there?"  
  
Searching for an answer, he sighed again as his shoulders sagged. Emily approached and asked him if he wanted anything. "Whisky, neat."  
  
Lewis's eyebrows crawled up into his hairline at this request. "Sweet Yoba, my boy, something's really got you in a bind. You don't usually order something quite that potent."  
  
Swirling the dark brown liquid in the glass, a smile equally as dark danced across his lips at Lewis's astute observation, and he gasped once he'd got his breath back after that first sip. Dear _gods_ it burned, but he savored it, needing that pain, to keep him going, to remind himself that he was still alive... "Everything's falling apart, if it hasn't already," he replied, not bothering with any semblance of false cheer, "I have failed in my dream, and thus I have failed all who have supported me."  
  
Emily leaned on the bar top, looking a bit sad for him, and chuckled. "Well, I guess I get to save on hair dye for a bit, hunh?"  
  
Recalling her statement nearly a year previous, Elliott's eyes went wide as he made a "please don't" gesture. "That is completely unnecessary. It is bad enough for me to fail, I will not have others suffer on my behalf."  
  
Certain that he was missing a conversation somewhere, Lewis remembered something else that he'd forgotten and pulled out his phone. "Good thing you're here, I almost forgot to let him know about the Flower Dance tomorrow."  
  
Exhaling sharply again after a second sip, Elliott fixed him with a look of confusion. "Damn, I'd forgotten about that as well. Who do you need to inform?"  
  
The message was sent, then another after it, making a correction to an error, and Lewis frowned again as he sent a third message, correcting another mistake. "Just had someone new move in last week," he replied, setting down his phone, looking extremely happy about it, "my friend's grandson is taking over the old place. By the light, it was good to meet him, he's damn near the mirror image of Lex when he was young. Oh, pardon a moment," he interrupted himself, checking his phone as it buzzed, "and he's going to attend the event. I'm glad, he'll need the break after clearing out that old mess."  
  
Intrigued, Elliott prompted Lewis to continue, trying to remember-  
  
 _Oh. That home to the west. Such a lovely place, and he's returned to it- No, Lewis mentioned that his friend's son lived there, but none of his other descendants. So this isn't so much a homecoming as it is coming home for the first time._  
  
Lewis nodded and sipped his gin and tonic as he smiled, lost in memories both new and old. "He's right about your age, now that I think about it, and I feel so old for it, yet it brings me back to the days that Lex and I were the terrors of the town. You know, it's almost strange, you and Lys arrived under different circumstances and with different outlooks, but almost at the same time. Well, a year apart."  
  
Confused, Elliott set down the tumbler and wondered what he'd missed. "Who-"  
  
"Oh, right, sorry," Lewis chuckled, "his name is Lysander, but he prefers 'Lys.' I can see it, everyone in his family always goes by some shortened version of their full name."  
  
 _What did Lewis say that family name was? Ah. Hmm, Lysander von Morgensonne. That's rather nice, actually, it sounds like the name of a legendary hero or the protagonist for an epic tale._  
  
He felt a slight tug at the corner of his mind, but before he could follow that thread any further, Lewis finished his drink and ordered another. "But as I was saying, you came here looking for a place to write, and he's looking for a place to get away. I don't know what's haunting him, but whatever it is, I hope he finds peace here."  
  
Picking up the glass again, Elliott swirled his drink again before taking another sip, and once again relished the liquid, heated pain. "I do as well, if anything else so that one of us can find success. I am defeated, but perhaps he will fare better in his endeavors."  
  
From a few seats down, Shane snorted loudly, already halfway through his fourth beer, and shot Elliott a bleary side-eyed look. "Yeah, we get it, you're a failure. Welcome to the club and quit your bitching, nobody cares."  
  
Shocked, Elliott was caught too off-guard to reply, but was saved a reply when Sam stomped over and roughly shoved the drunk man, looking very angry. "Get wrecked, Shane. Just because your life sucks doesn't mean you get to be an asshole to everyone else."  
  
"Samson-!" Lewis began, about to admonish him, when Sam momentarily turned his glare to the mayor.  
  
"Stay out of this, sir, I'm right and you know it. And you-" he growled, turning back to the unshaved and unkempt man, "you don't make any effort to change things. You just sit there and mope and get fat from drinking away your paycheck every night. At least _he's_ trying, so shut the hell up and quit being a jerk."  
  
Setting down his mug with a heavy _thunk_ , Shane turned to his co-worker, ready to begin violence, which was met with a challenging stare from Sam and a command for the both of them to stop from Lewis. Gulping the last of his whisky, Elliott felt a surge of fury as he put the glass aside, slamming both hands onto the bar top.  
  
" _ENOUGH!!_ " His outburst surprised himself more than anyone else, and as he turned to address the arguing pair, he felt the hot burn of liquor be replaced with the cold stab of embarrassment as everyone in the saloon stared at them. Backing up against the bar, a wave of self-consciousness washed over him, and he pushed away, striding toward the door. Sam grabbed him by the wrist, momentarily halting his departure.  
  
"Dude, it's okay. Just because he's got a bug up his ass doesn't mean that the rest of us don't want you here. Sorry for jumping in for you like that, but he had no right to say what he did. You _are_ trying, we can all see it. C'mon, join us over at the pool table, you don't have to be alone."  
  
For a moment, Elliott wanted to take him up on his offer, he really did. Sam's offer was genuine, and he honestly cared. But at that moment, Elliott felt the emptiness begin to fill with pain, and he knew that he had to deal with that alone. He wouldn't ruin anyone else's night any worse than he already had.  
  
"I...cannot... Thank you, I truly do appreciate it, but my presence only brings conflict. I am sorry. ...I should never have come here..." Without resistance, he broke Sam's hold and left, his long stride eating up the distance to the bridge, where he slowed to a dejected walk, not noticing where he was going, just...forward. He kept going until he ran out of surface upon which to advance, at the edge of the longest pier out over the ocean. Standing there, he watched the waves pulse back and forth as he listened to its gentle crash and roar.  
  
 _So peaceful, so vast. Uncaring, indifferent, unchanging, endless... Long has it been my companion, just outside of notice but always present. What would happen were I to simply resign myself to its embrace, to consign myself to the abyss? It is not as though I have contributed anything. Rather, I would finally accomplish something by no longer taking up time and resources from those who would use them constructively. But...no, there are those to whom this act would cause harm. That would be selfish of me. I can tolerate that which inconveniences me, but to hurt another, that is reprehensible._  
  
With almost a sense of regret, he turned away and slowly trudged back to his home, pausing with his hand almost to the door latch as he suddenly realized what he'd considered. Turning sharply toward the bay, he forgot to breathe for a moment as the full weight of what his near-decision meant, and let himself inside with alarmed speed. He leaned against the closed door, hugging himself tightly, feeling a lump form in his throat, hating everything about himself.  
  
Unsteadily, he made his way to his bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and sat down on the edge of the bed with a complete lack of grace, his elbows on his knees and hand between them as he stared at the floor. With one hand he tried to reach up to remove the earrings, the first thing he did when getting ready for bed, but gave up and sprawled on his back, his arm over his eyes, feeling as though he weighed twice as much as he actually did. Unmoving for several minutes, he finally reached over to grab a pillow that he hugged tightly as he rolled onto his side, begging for sleep to take him away from himself and his failures, even for just a few hours. The bit of alcohol in his system and mental exhaustion granted this desire, and he dozed off atop the covers, still fully dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	11. The Light of Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //And now begins the REAL challenge of writing this book. *Gets coffee, pulls up books 1 and 3 side-by-side, cracks knuckles.*//

He woke up much earlier than usual, but given how early he'd gone to bed, it wasn't a surprise. Lying there for a little while, he played out the events of the previous evening once more, feeling a notable lack of care for the entire situation. Save for his musings at the end of the pier, _that_ gave him concern. Nothing to be done about it for the moment, however...  
  
Stiffly, he got up and undressed, carelessly throwing his clothes on the bed before diving into a scalding shower, trying to wash away the memory of recent events. He wasn't even certain if he should go to the event that day, either. It had been a minor verbal altercation, nothing of real note, to be honest, but this _was_ a small town, and he wasn't certain that he had a very good reputation at the moment. Perhaps it might be better if he didn't go after all.  
  
And yet...  
  
He admitted to himself no small amount of curiosity about a new face in town. It wasn't as though he was starved for novelty or the like, but Lewis had spoken fondly (and at extreme lengths!) of his friend, and seemed to already have a grandfatherly sort of interest in the newcomer. This was a strange endorsement of their character, but one that Elliott was inclined to accept and want to investigate. Something tugged at the corner of his mind once more, but he pushed it aside for the moment as he concentrated on not cutting himself while he shaved. Rinsing off the razor, he set it to dry and reached into the closet.  
  
The weather forecast was to be warm, and he felt the urge to dress in a similar manner, selecting the charcoal waistcoat and trousers, and that nice red shirt he'd not worn in a little while anyway. Might as well give the more neglected bits of his wardrobe a bit of use. Fastening the buttons on his waistcoat, he returned to the bathroom and reached for the hairbrush, idly inspecting his reflection. Presentable enough, he supposed, and nothing notable at the same time. Excellent. He didn't want to be _noticed_ , per se, but at the same time he was making the attempt to be sociable. The silver earrings were last, as always, and it was off to the kitchen for a pick-me-up coffee.  
  
  
A couple of hours later he walked into the event area, to the very west edge of the Cindersap Forest. It had been quite the nice walk, and one he hadn't made in quite some time. Feeling invigorated, he roamed without a clear destination, feeling his mood lift a little. If anyone had heard of the event in the saloon the night previous they made no mention of it, and it didn't change their response to him, as everyone he talked to was likewise cheerful and welcoming. He saw Sam with his friends and remembered the kind words that the shorter man had offered the night before, and resolved to thank him for it.  
  
_Oh, it appears that he's in the middle of a conversation already. But with- Half a moment, I don't recognize them_ , he thought as he approached, trying to put a name to that face, but realized that he wasn't being forgetful, this person was new. _I wonder, if this is..._  
  
Haley sighed with irritation at something that Sam said, and Abigail rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the newcomer. "Sorry that everyone else here is so rude. I’m Abigail. That’s Sam, Sebastian, and Haley.”  
  
The person they were talking with relaxed visibly and managed a small smile in response. “I’m Lys. Nice to meet everyone.”  
  
Hoping that he wasn't interrupting, Elliott joined the conversation. “Not quite everyone, actually. I’m Elliott, pleased to meet you. Now, Lys is it? Short for Lysander if I’m not mistaken?”  
  
_You utter twit_ , he thought as the words left his mouth, _how would anyone know the "full" form of that name out of nowhere? Excellent first impression._  
  
This didn't seem to be a problem, as Lys gave him a look of startled surprise, silent for a moment. He was quite tall, Elliott could see that, even sitting down, and appeared to be of a rather athletic yet slim build, quite unlike Alex's bulk, who was the only person in town to rival his own height. Warm hazel eyes behind a pair of silver, half-rim glasses studied him in return, from a face that he wasn't sure was more "handsome" or "pretty." His most striking feature, however, was the copper-red hair that he wore loose and went past his shoulders. To his own surprise, Elliott had a strange realization in that he found Lys to be rather attractive, and he didn't mind admitting to himself that it wasn't an unpleasant thought to be interested in him. Before he could pursue this thought any further, Lys finished gathering his own thoughts.  
  
“I… Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking. I’ve always wanted to try earrings but didn’t think I could make it work.”  
  
The pleasant feeling deepened at the inadvertent compliment, and Elliott couldn't help but smile. “Not everyone can, but you might. Though your choker suits you well, and I doubt any of us could say the same.”  
  
Lys's aesthetic was certainly curious, but it worked for him. And yet, it didn't... The tooled leather choker was interesting and stylish, and he wore it with a simple, forest-green button down and khaki slacks, the smooth, clean lines of which complemented his figure. But the two styles didn't seem to "go" together; it seemed as though he was deliberately changing something about himself and was in the middle of doing so. Further, though the glasses complemented the shape of his face, Elliott had the impression that gold looked better against his skin tone rather than silver, which seemed too harsh. During his musings he realized that he'd missed a part of the conversation, just as Lys replied to a query from Haley.  
  
“No, I came here because…” He visibly sagged as he trailed off, shaking his head. “Nothing, I guess. Just a change. I did something stupid and I wanted to get away and try again. I wasn’t really thinking, and now I’m here with nothing to show for it.”  
  
_Lewis was right, we both arrived under different circumstances with different outlooks. Light help me, he looks like I feel. I wish that there were a way that I could help, so that only one of us has to suffer for the past._  
  
Sebastian, who Elliott remembered being quiet, but profound when he did speak, offered a suggestion, asking if there was anything that Lys could possibly grow out at the farm. This was a sensible question, as Elliott recalled the property being quite large, and that the only restriction to growing it would be one's own time and energy, not space. Pondering this, Lys remarked that he liked flowers, even though he wasn't quite good at growing things. This prompted everyone else to chip in with what they liked, and Elliott voiced his preference for roses, to which Lys commented that he liked sunflowers (after Sam had made a rather indecent horticultural suggestion that Sebastian helpfully interrupted). Elliott recalled seeing a number of books on gardening and farming at the library, and suggested that perhaps Lys could visit it some time for help. All of this seemed to momentarily ease Lys's concern, and his smile was warm and grateful.  
  
“...Thanks. All of you. I really didn’t expect to get along with anyone. I’m happy to be wrong. Not that I mean that I thought you’d be bad people, it’s just- Damn it, sorry.” The smile faded, like a cloud passing in front of the sun.  
  
Elliott felt a twinge of sympathy for him, and resisted the urge to offer him words (or a hug) of comfort, not certain how it would be received. “I understand your sentiment. Meeting new people and trying to make a good first impression is daunting, and while some residents are standoffish and reclusive, just remember that most of us are gregarious and welcoming.”  
  
The smile flickered at the corner of Lys's mouth but didn't return completely. “A little, yeah, but I’ve just never had much luck making friends before so I’m really not sure how it works.”  
  
Abigail expressed surprise at this, which was the same thing that everyone was thinking. The smile returned as he mentioned his hobbies, and Elliott was intrigued to hear that not only was Lys a musician, but a theater actor. Before he could query about this, Haley leapt in, fascinated, asking what sort of theater that Lys had done, and the positive inquiry was apparently something that he was not expecting.  
  
Scratching his nose, Lys thought out loud. “A bit of everything. Musicals, plays, classic lit. I’ve done just about everything in the Avonbard list, now that I think about it.”  
  
Haley sighed with delight, and Elliott didn't bother to hide a smile, knowing that while to most writers and performers those plays were sometimes a bit silly and over-the-top, it was difficult to deny the cultural impact that they'd had. Her eyes unfocused a little, gazing off at nothing in particular. “Ah, his stuff is so good, it’s so romantic and tragic. Especially his Star-Crossed Lovers, it’s really his best.” She ignored Sam having a giggle at her expense, posing in a dramatic fashion that nearly left Elliott chuckling as well, and a quick glance at Lys showed that he wasn't the only one. Her attempt to recite a line from the play in question was met with mixed success, and once more Sam had a laugh. Recalling how that portion of the play went, Elliott's jaw nearly dropped as Lys stood up, donning the mask of a performer as he did so.  
  
“Our bond is something true and strong, so tenuous but lasting long. As soft as breath, as hard as steel, there is naught else that I would feel."  
  
_Wait- He was so shy and withdrawn just a moment ago. Now he's quoting lines from one of the most famous romantic stories. And with such confidence, clearly this is a role that he's had before. Just what are you, I wonder?_  
  
Usually he would find it too embarrassing to open himself up to others in the same manner, but he was too curious to _not_ see what would happen, and took his place next to Lys, reciting the next line, offering his hand as the script dictated. “Warm and gentle like breaking dawn, I pale like dusk when you are gone. But like dawn’s light you shine once more, and with your touch my heart does soar.” His heart skipped a beat as Lys welcomed him to the "stage," lacing his fingers with his own, completely immersed in his role.  
  
“Though misunderstood and oft-maligned, our destinies are intertwined. They know not what it is we share, though I know for certain they do not care.”  
  
_I-! Perhaps I have made a mistake, I shouldn't embarrass him like this. And yet he shows no sign of self-consciousness or hesitation. There is no mask being worn here, it is a mantle, and it fits him to perfection. How strange yet delightful._  
  
He almost held his breath as he continued the script, putting an arm around the other man's waist and feeling his pulse jump again as Lys stepped into it and against him. “Then just for now I’ll hold you tight, if you’ll permit to stay the night. Our passions burning pure and hot, we find the climax we’ve so long sought.” The hesitant uncertainty was gone; Lys was confident in his role, and not the least bit perturbed about being held by a complete stranger in a nearly-intimate manner. Elliott was only partially aware of the antics of the others watching them, but before he could say anything, Lys turned a shade of red almost as bright as his hair and let him go.  
  
“Ah! Sorry! I really got into character there for a moment.”  
  
_He's... I almost cannot believe this; he's not embarrassed for himself, he thinks that this was embarrassing to ME. What... What are you? Who are you? You fiery enigma, what is your story?_  
  
His own smile returned, flattered that Lys's first concern was for him and not himself. “Don’t apologize. You have passion for your art, and that’s quite admirable. You are a true thespian." He and Lys shared a perplexed look as Sam remarked, "but you two aren’t girls," and nobody present was the least bit certain as to whether he was honest or jesting.  
  
Shaking her head, Abigail turned back to the two impromptu performers, responding to a remark that both men had missed. “Haley is right, that was good. I didn’t know you read Avonbard’s stuff, I thought you were just a writer.”  
  
Elliott was still caught up in the energy of the moment and replied with friendly humor. “I am no mere writer, I am an author. I am the artist who paints with words. Any author worth their work knows the classics.” As he said it he wanted to take the words back; he was a writer, yes, but not yet an _author_. Nobody called him out on it, though, as she realized and pointed out that most of them had to leave to prepare for the dance. They bantered amongst themselves as they excused themselves from Elliott and Lys, leaving the writer suddenly uncertain as to what to say.  
  
The copper-haired man regarded him with curiosity, both personal and professional. "So you're not a part of this?"  
  
“I am not. My talents lie in a more cerebral area, less physical. Besides, I only moved here about a year ago myself, and have hardly made more progress than you have in learning names and putting them to faces.”  
  
_I have tried. Dear gods, I have tried. I hope that you have greater success than I did._  
  
The smile returned, giving Elliott a small pulse of inner warmth. "Fair enough. A writer, though? Sounds fun and tedious at the same time.”  
  
“True enough. If you have the time and inclination I would welcome the company. I live in the cabin on the beach. I had hoped that the isolation and pastoral peace that came with it would bring me the inspiration I need, but that has yet to come to pass.”  
  
_Double the fool!_ he thought, realizing that he'd been saying nearly every wrong thing possible that day, _you've only just met, do not scare him away by being too forward. He has come here to escape something, he does not need another reason to run._  
  
This offer didn't produce any sort of negative reaction. Rather, Lys seemed interested as well. “I was thinking of getting out and about tomorrow. I’ll have to do that.”  
  
The crowd began to shift and move, and Elliott almost couldn't hide his disappointment that the conversation had to end. “It appears that we will have to continue this later. If I do not see you sooner, I wish you a good evening.”  
  
“Same. And thanks again. Especially for not laughing, I do tend to throw myself into things too much.”  
  
That smile. Oh gods, that smile, Elliott could feel himself melting from it, and hoped that it didn't show. "If there is fault to be found it is mine for stepping upon your stage without permission."  
  
"Are you joking? That was great! I didn't expect to find anyone else who knew it from memory. I haven't been on stage in months and it feels like forever. I needed that."

They walked together for a bit longer until they were separated by the crowd, as other townsfolk were taking a moment to get to know him, and Elliott thought it would be incredibly rude to wait around. He didn't see him again after the dance was over, but still felt quite upbeat as he left the festival grounds, his hands in his pockets as he strolled through the forest on his way back home. For the third time he felt the tug at the corner of his mind that he'd ignored previously, and this time he let it off of its proverbial leash to run free for a bit.  
  
_Lysander von Morgensonne. A man whose appearance fits his name. A man of mystery and secrets. From what are you running? Who or what is it that you seek? A musician and actor, skilled with song and story, fleeing his past and searching for a brighter future. The truth is likely mundane, but one can easily imagine him escaping memories that haunt him, or chasing a fortune and title denied him by nefarious men and deeds._  
  
He let his mind wander, and suddenly, he realized something: he could see the future. Stopping in his tracks, his eyes went wide as he saw the spanning, sprawling, vast tree of a story. Not a mere tale, but an epic. The branching limbs of plot threads and dialogue fanned out in front of him, and he swayed on his feet as the possibilities staggered him. A touch on his arm startled him, and he was snapped out of his reverie by Leah, who looked both concerned and curious.  
  
"Hey, Elliott, are you doing okay? You look really out of it."  
  
"I... Leah, I am doing _marvelous_. That new person, Lys, I..." He was at a loss for words, only because there were too many to choose from.  
  
"Oh? Oh! Yeah, I got the chance to say hi. He's cute," she giggled, "and a bit shy, but I think he'll do well here. Sounds like the two of you had a good talk."  
  
"Not a mere talk, no, I have been _inspired_. Light help me, I have searched for years to no avail, and today, in a meeting of only a few minutes, have found a story. It may just be ideas and impressions right now, but that is irrelevant. We..." He put a hand to his forehead as he caught his balance again, bewildered by everything that passed in front of his mind's eye. "We had a moment of theater, performing a couple of lines of a play. Spontaneous silliness of which I did not think myself capable, but something about him, this aura, this presence, I could not hold myself back. And now I can see possibilities that never before existed."  
  
Leah's expression grew more excited in synchronous with Elliott's enthusiasm, and she bounced and clapped with delight. "This is great! I don't think I've ever seen you this jazzed about something. He sounds totally amazing."  
  
"He... Yes, he is."  
  
_It was a meeting of only a few minutes, but in those minutes I became captivated. Light help me, I am helpless before his charm and beauty, and I feel no shame or fear for it. I only fear that I may drive him away, to lose the light that has already illuminated a path. You strange, enigmatic flame, I cannot thank you enough for what you have done today._  
  
  
For a brief moment he genuinely considered turning north at the entrance to the farm, just west of Marnie's ranch, but thought better of it. It was late in the day, so Lys was not likely to be interested in visitors after such a busy day, especially someone he'd just met, and in any case, that part of the property was still heavily overgrown, and Elliott lacked the gear to tackle it. He walked home with a brisk step, humming to himself as he let the myriad threads of potential plots take form from the spinning wheel of his mind. As he undressed for bed, he laughed merrily, enjoying the satisfying warmth that he'd not felt in so very long. This was the best day that he'd had in ages, and though he wanted so badly to sit and type for hours, he knew that he needed the rest. Previously, he might have worried that he'd forget these ideas, that they'd fade along with the dreams of the night, but this time, he knew that he'd remember. They were too special not to be remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	12. The Muse of Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //It's kinda weird, writing this chapter from Elliott's point of view, as when I wrote the first book it just felt "natural" for him to just casually be all "oh yeah, this is a thing that I've done with pros for kicks, it's fun," because I've done it myself, and it No Big Thing. Now, I'm having a look back and thinking, "this must have blown Elliott's (and later Sam's!) mind, with this new person just offering to sit down and jam with them and being all chill about it even though they're a professional." *Laughs at self.*//

He did recall everything that he had thought of, and upon rising early once more, showered and dressed swiftly before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. While his drink steeped in the press, he seated himself at his laptop and typed furiously, in the off-chance that now that he was awake his thoughts would abandon him. It was a good fifteen or twenty minutes later before he remembered his beverage, and saved his work to go to the kitchen and pour himself a cup. Savoring the warm, smooth flavor, he sat down again and held the cup in both hands as he skimmed his notes. Yes, _yes_ , this could work. It was still fragments, so many pieces, but _these_ pieces, ah! These were ones into which he could assemble a full story, unlike the bits and pieces that filled so many document files until now. A smile of satisfaction spread across his face as he read, seeing the form of a story take shape. He still wasn't sure what it would be about, or who, or where, but it was coming together.  
  
Well, mostly.  
  
He hadn't hit a wall or a roadblock, so to speak, but now that he'd finally transcribed all that had been bouncing about in his head, he was left with quite a lot of empty space that was difficult to fill. Finishing half of the cup, he set it aside to stand up and stretch. No, he wasn't the least bit bothered. That conversation yesterday- that _performance_ \- had given him much food for thought, and having long been starved for it, he was grateful for the mental feast. Walking a lazy lap around the room, his hands folded behind his head as he thought, he let his mind wander and mull over everything. Suddenly, he felt the urge for music, and went to the piano, flexing his hands. How long had it been since he'd played? No matter. He was doing it now, that was what was important.  
  
At first he was stiff and clumsy, out of practice from the depths of depression and despair, but after a couple of songs he felt his old self again. After a moment of consideration, he began playing that composition of his that he'd been working on for so long, not only for the practice, but to see if he could expand upon it further. Humming along with the melody, he was lost in the beauty of its sound when he heard a message chirp from a phone. But not _his_ phone. Curious, he stood up and went to the door, having heard it from outside. Leaning against one of the awning supports, Lys sighed with his face in his hand.  
  
 _Oh! So he was able to drop by after all._  
  
“I thought I heard someone. Hello, Lys.”  
  
Looking up at the greeting, Lys grinned ruefully with a shrug of apology. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting any messages or I’d have turned off the sound. I heard you playing and was about to come back later when you aren’t busy.”  
  
Standing back and opening the door a bit wider, Elliott gestured inside. “To the contrary, I find myself vexingly idle right now. Please, come in.” Followed by the somewhat-embarrassed musician, Elliott looked around, noticing that while there were technically seats available, he was sorely lacking in anything comfortable. “I don’t have many places to sit, as I don’t often see company. There are many who would find that a sad state of affairs, but such is my state of mine at the moment.”  
  
“I lived in a studio apartment for a while, so you’ve got more furniture and space for company than I used to. Not that there was anyone to come visit," Lys replied, resting the guitar case against the edge of the table with a sympathetic shrug, sitting down in the computer chair as Elliott returned to the piano bench with a laugh at himself and his situation.  
  
“As I said yesterday, I had thought that I would find here what I sought in order to create literary works, but it seems that my vision is greater than my sight.” Also in his vision was the rather simple state of his home; the laptop, rose, and partially-finished cup of coffee upon the table, walls lined with books and shelves, and little else. “If I were using pen and paper I would have a room full of discarded scraps and only a handful of something useful. I would aver that my muse has abandoned me, but that implies that one was present at all.”  
  
That warm smile appeared again as Lys followed Elliott's visual path around his home. "You’re ahead of me at least, I just play stuff that others have written. The only time I’ve done anything of my own was when I was sitting in with dad’s group and- Hey, I’ve got an idea." He stood up and grabbed his guitar case, setting it upon the table and removing the instrument within. "That song you were playing, run it again.”  
  
Elliott played it once more, barely able to hide his amusement at the obvious change.  
  
 _How curious_ , Elliott thought with a smile that mirrored his companion's, _he wears and discards a mask so easily. That quiet, almost meek persona is clearly a fiction, and a facade that he must consciously maintain lest his true face show. You intrigue me, newcomer, and though I fear appearing too eager, I cannot hold back the urge to learn more about you. Your voice, your posture, your movements, they all speak of someone with complete confidence in themselves. What has happened to you that would cause you to want to hide it away?_  
  
When Elliott turned back to him, Lys nodded, the guitar already in place (a lovely instrument, at that!) and the pick between his fingers. “Okay, I’ve got it. We’re going to do some stream-of-consciousness lyric writing.”  
  
While he knew what stream of consciousness writing was, although he'd not done it in some time, hearing the suggestion out of the blue, and for music lyrics, caught him off-guard. “How do you mean?" he asked, both confused and impressed, "and you already know my song?”  
  
With off-handed modesty, Lys shrugged again and plucked each string individually to ensure that the guitar was properly in tune. “I can read sheet music but I usually play by ear, and I pick up on music fast. My dad also has a small local band back home that plays in the community center and the like that I sit in with now and then. In some pieces we’ll repeat the chorus section and each of us takes sixteen or so bars to do a quick solo, just something improvised based on the melody and chords, and on occasion our own lyrics. It’s a lot of fun because you never know what you’ll do, it’s just spontaneous.”  
  
 _He's a proper musician, then, not just a musical enthusiast like I am. A professional. That someone with such skill is willing to assist me is an unexpected honor._  
  
“That’s… Actually a good idea," he replied, having turned over the idea in his mind, feeling nervous but confident, "I’ll give it a go.”  
  
“We need a theme. Um…" Tapping the pick against the body of the guitar, Lys looked around. "Well, we’re by the shore, let’s go with the ocean. I’ll start off and do two lines and pass it to you, you do two and pass it back, and we’ll go around a couple of times and see what happens. I’ll give you four bars intro before I start.”  
  
Elliott listened as Lys played a quick intro with skilled fingers, and he very nearly stumbled after joining the song. The other man's warm, resonant tenor was a surprise, as well as the gentle confidence with which he sang.  
  
“The smell of sand and sunlit sea, a summer’s memory, comes back to me. Long-forgotten sounds and places that I’d forgot exist.”  
  
Uncertain of how to follow this, Elliott almost stumbled again. Then he gave himself a mental shake, letting his mind wander and pull the words from the ether. “So long it’s been since I had seen this windswept seascape, so blue and green. All of those old friendships and places I’ve missed.”  
  
The musician was in his element, grabbing and running with Elliott's addition. “Far from this home I left one day, I’ve journeyed blindly to my dismay. Is there anyone who will still remember me?”  
  
For some reason his thoughts took a wistful and slightly sad turn, but he went with it. That was the point of this exercise, after all. “When last we talked and said good bye, you said, ‘be sure to write me,’ I said I’d try. Now upon these shores it’s only you that I can see.”  
  
That smile again! Lys was clearly having fun, and that smile gained an edge of mischief. “Good! Key change and final verse!”  
  
"Wait-" he started to say, amazed that Lys was already so confident with this song.  
  
"Keep up," he laughed, cutting Elliott off as he played a quick "bridge" to give him time to catch himself and transition. Elliott only made one error as he synchronized with the guitarist and changed up a half step to the next key, and to his own surprise, felt confident enough to add flourish to the melody as Lys added his final verse. “Now I’ve returned and here I’ll stay, will you forgive me being gone away? I’ll wait here for you now, in sun or in the rain.”  
  
“Upon these shores we’ll reunite, no longer memories, the future bright. There is nothing more that I want than to see you again.” They closed out the song with four final bars, letting the sound linger on.  
  
“Not bad for a first try, that was fun," Lys remarked, once more twirling the pick as he regarded Elliott with approval, "you’re pretty fast on the uptake.”  
  
Elliott almost didn't hear him, slowly playing a bit of the melody with one hand as he thought, suddenly feeling something "unlock" in his mind. No new ideas came to him, but he DID find ways to connect and expand upon that which he already had, and in only a few seconds' time he almost felt drowned in inspiration. He laughed with delight at this, amazed that this strange, simple idea had given him exactly what he needed.  
  
“Damn if it didn’t work. I suddenly feel the urge to write. My mind is full of ideas that demand to be transcribed. From one set of keys to another." With energy that he'd not shown in months he very nearly leapt from the piano bench to his computer chair. He completely missed the chuckle that Lys smothered, as well as a satisfied smile, watching him type so quickly he seemed in danger of tripping over his own fingers.  
  
Lys slipped the pick back into the frets and put away the guitar carefully, trying not to bump the table. “I should probably leave, then, looks like you’ve got a lot to do.”  
  
 _You have no idea, and one day I shall have to properly thank you for it. Yet you still perplex me, with that deliberate mask. I wonder, since you claim to not be a gardener, how will you react to being asked something out of your expertise? I do not mean to unfairly test you, but at the same time you are a mystery that I am eager to solve._  
  
He nodded and pushed back from the table, reclining comfortably. “Yes, but I will do you the courtesy of at least seeing you off, first. Though if you get the time, I would ask a favor. If you have any horticultural skill could you have a look at that rose? I’m just not sure what to do for it.”  
  
Lys was the next to not notice someone's gaze, as Elliott watched him carefully while he closed the snaps on the guitar case and reached for the small potted rose. He poked, prodded, and inspected it from every angle, rubbing its petals and leaves gently between his fingers, and checking the soil. With an air of focused study, he remarked that it was in good condition but could use slightly different care to help it flourish, and listed a few things that could be done quite easily. As he finished his lecture, he realized what he was doing and appeared to be startled and apologetic, carefully putting down the plant and reaching for his guitar case as he hastily and almost haphazardly donned his "disguise" again.  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get- I’ll go now.”  
  
 _How fascinating. I still do not understand, but I am learning. I do not yet know who or what it was that hurt you, but if you let me I will help make it better. It is the least that I can do for you for what you have done for me._  
  
Elliot put a hand on the guitar case, not firmly enough to prevent him from taking it and leaving, only just enough to get Lys to wait. “You’ve got talent and knowledge. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed of it.”  
  
That look of hesitant fear was a sharp stab in Elliott's gut, but he knew that he wasn't the source, it was something in Lys's past. Hugging himself, Lys cast his gaze away from Elliott. “Maybe, but…”  
  
 _Forgive me, but I cannot see someone in pain and indifferently stand aside. Let me help you, please, for this kindness that you have shown me._  
  
Seeing this reaction, Elliott made a calculated guess. "You don’t need those glasses, do you? You wear them as a shield.” Silent surprise told Elliott that he'd hit his mark, and he pressed on, hoping that he wasn't also pressing his luck. “I won’t ask why, but you’ve been hurt and now you’re hiding. I’ve been there, for different reasons I imagine, but I know how to see it in others. You need a friend, and I’ll be that if you want. I confess to being bored and lonely out here, and this was the first time in a long time that I’ve felt properly challenged. Thank you for that.”  
  
Elliott watched silently and patiently as Lys fought an internal battle; he bit his lip, nails digging into his sleeves as he stared at an undefined point on the floor. Very nearly holding his breath, Elliott worried that he'd miscalculated. Then, that smile, warm but faint and hesitant, appeared again as Lys offered a hand.  
  
“I’d like that.”  
  
Feeling a knot in his stomach untangle that he didn't realize had formed, Elliott grasped his hand softly, feeling and seeing him relax considerably. Lys's smile was no longer wary, finally touching his eyes, and the knot of fear was momentarily replaced with butterflies, confusing Elliott as he stood. He stretched to dissipate it and lead the way to the door.  
  
“If you have the time tomorrow I’d like to try that again. I’ve got music scores stashed here somewhere that I haven’t read in some time if you want to try something different.”  
  
The copper-haired man strode with casual confidence behind him, hefting the case's strap over his shoulder. “That’d be fun. Most of my stuff is guitar tabs, so it’ll take me a bit to get used to regular scoring.”  
  
Once more that flutter of delight, at finding someone who understood and shared the same interests! “Then whenever is best for you. I’ll try to have coffee ready.” The smile and wave that Lys gave him as he left filled him a sense of content warmth, and he returned to his laptop immediately, his mind still spinning with ideas and thoughts.  
  
For the next few hours he typed tirelessly, completely forgetting to eat or drink. Eventually he paused to rub his wrists and reach for his coffee, which was completely cold by this point. He laughed at himself and took the cup to the kitchen, pouring the contents of the cup and the press (also cold and forgotten) into a taller glass, to which he added a bit more cream and a few ice cubes, recalling that coffee was one of those strange beverages that is delicious when both hot and cold, but almost nauseating at room temperature.  
  
As he walked back to the table with his repurposed drink, his phone buzzed with a message from Charles, and he picked it up to call him, leaning against the table as he sipped his beverage.  
  
"Elliott? How's it going out there? Haven't heard from you in a little bit. It's been about a year since you moved out there, isn't it?"  
  
"Things are marvelous," he replied, still feeling the euphoria from earlier, "and it's a bit past a year, but not by much. But it's the best that things have been so far."  
  
Charles could almost see the delight that he heard in his brother's voice, and he sighed with relief, his earlier concern completely erased. "You sound a hell of a lot better. Not to be rude, but what changed?"  
  
"There is no rudeness implied or assumed. It is simply that things have changed and I am now in a much more positive and productive frame of mind. Strangely, much like myself, someone else is new to this town, and though he is here for far different reasons than I, we appear to have some common skills and interests. So much so that he has been instrumental-" he paused to laugh at his unintended pun, "in providing me with the inspiration that I was lacking."  
  
"Wait- Really? So you've finally got a start on that novel?"  
  
"Of a sort, yes. It's still in the planning stages, I have been writing down possibilities and paths all afternoon since he departed. No, since before that. Our chance encounter yesterday opened my eyes and mind to countless possibilities that had never before existed."  
  
Laughing at his brother's enthusiasm, Charles felt elated at the change. "It sounds as though you finally found your muse."  
  
This produced a moment of contemplative silence before it was Elliott's turn to laugh, delving into a moment of rambling poetry. "Not just a muse, but their leader, Apollo. Tall and graceful, and possessing a voice and skill with stringed instruments fitting of any deity. Radiating the warmth of the sun, he illuminates the stage upon which he stands, and inspires all who bear witness."  
  
"Aww, my little brother finally found a sweetie," Charles teased, "he sounds delightful. I bet you two are simply adorable together."  
  
Sputtering, Elliott nearly dropped the phone. "Wha- No! He is a friend and a fellow artist! What is wrong with you?"  
  
There was hearty laughter on the other end, and Elliott was certain that Charles was wiping away tears. "I refuse to apologize for that, and I wish that this had been a video call so I could have seen your face. I'm just giving you sass, I'm honestly happy for you to have made such a good friend already, especially one who has helped you so much in such a short time."  
  
"I...thank you. Although I suppose that your jest was not unwarranted. After all that I put you through these last few months I suppose that I had something like that coming." Chuckling at himself and his brother's glee, he swirled the drink and took another sip. "But in all seriousness, I do hope that he considers me to be a friend, as I have never before met someone with his musical talent, and his mutual love for theater has given me hope for the first time since I can remember."  
  
"Theater? Really!"  
  
"I was more surprised than you, and-" he blushed a little at the memory but still smiled, "he performed a small segment of one of the Avonbard pieces for a few of us, and his love for the written work is genuine. It may be selfish of me to want to keep him so close, and I fear scaring him away with over-enthusiasm, but I'll be damned if I let slip by the opportunity to work closely with a professional."  
  
A soft laugh this time was heard on the other end of the line. "If I ever drop in to town I'll have to meet and thank the person that gave you back your energy and drive to create."  
  
"As long as you behave yourself. It is your right as an older brother to be a bother, but I shall frown upon any attempt at mischief."  
  
"And it seems to be your right as a younger brother to take the fun out of everything. Oh! Have you told mother and father about this?"  
  
Elliott shook his head as he took another drink, rolling his eyes at himself for the gesture that Charles couldn't see. "I have not, no. I had just paused for a break when you messaged. I will call them the moment we are finished."  
  
"Then I'll go ahead and let you go so you can tell them right away."  
  
"My thanks, for just now, and for back then."  
  
"We're family, and we love you. Never forget that."  
  
A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, despite the memory of the past year. "I did once. Never shall I do so again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	13. Trust Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Wow, Stardew Valley is a year old now. Granted, I only started writing this series last April or so, but still, wow, weird to think that I've been at this almost a full year now, and that people have been reading it almost as long.
> 
> ...
> 
> Dang. You guys are AWESOME.//

Sleeping well and waking refreshed, Elliott sat up in bed for a few minutes, taking a quick index of his physical and mental state. He was feeling _much_ better than he had in quite some time. His usual routine of getting cleaned up and dressed took little time at all, and feeling mellow yet energetic, reached for dark but rich colors; black waistcoat and trousers, and a dark green shirt. Buttoning up the shirt and shrugging into the waistcoat, he left it undone as he rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, feeling the urge to write, and found it sometimes annoying to have his cuffs in the way when he did so.  
  
A little while later he was busy at work when he reached for a non-existent cup of coffee and chuckled to himself. He'd been so focused on writing that he'd forgotten to make any. The press was filled with grounds and hot water in a matter of moments, and he returned to the laptop to continue his work. He still wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do, or how, but there were a few things that he wanted to tinker with, and experimentally outlined a few. In the middle of a particularly large patch of thoughts, he heard a polite knock on the screen door. Upon rising to greet his visitor, he couldn't hold himself back from smiling at his friend's new appearance.  
  
“Welcome back, Lysander. You’ve had a haircut, I see, it suits you. Your timing is impeccable, as I’ve just put on the coffee. Ah, right, you prefer Lys, my apologies.”  
  
Lys was dressed as before, but had obtained a quick trim since the day before, as his hair was now pulled back with a bit of ribbon, save for slightly messy, asymmetric bangs that were a bit longer on the left side. It gave him a somewhat roguish appearance that fit the personality that he had let slip a few times before but now wore openly. Returning the smile, Lys followed him inside.  
  
“Actually, you can use my full name. Funny, from most other people it just sounds strange or insulting, but it sounds right from you. But then, I trust you more than I do anyone else.”  
  
 _This is certainly unexpected. You've hardly known me a week, yet I have already gained your personal confidence. And your body language, your demeanor... Something pleasant must have happened to be comfortable enough to wear it again._  
  
He remarked upon all of these points and asked about them, curious as to know more about Lysander's thoughts and motives as he returned to his chair, crossing his ankles over each other and folding his hands over his midriff as he leaned back, setting the tone for a relaxed atmosphere. The guitar was rested against the edge of the table before Lysander sat up on it the same way, removing and folding the half-rim glasses with elegance and setting them aside. As he did so, Elliott could visibly see the final remnants of his "mask" fade.  
  
“Because you’re honest. You are _you_. No masks, no agendas, nothing to hide or be ashamed of. You are on display to the world and you have the confidence to back it up in the face of anything."  
  
He seemed prepared to expand upon that, remarking that he'd lost the confidence to do so, but cut himself off before he could admit how or why, and from the sudden tension in his shoulders, Elliott could tell that the wound was still both fresh and deep. Shaking his head, he continued, stating that it had been a while since he'd felt comfortable being himself again, but because of it he felt that his initial impressions with everyone else had been a lie of sorts. And Elliott had been right, Lysander had had the opportunity to let a bit of his true personality shine that day, and it was accepted, not rejected, but he was still uncertain as to whether it _was_ acceptance or if everyone assumed that, like at the Flower Dance, it was just another "performance."  
  
His monologue continued as he stood up and strode around the room, and Elliott could see the performer in him; his gestures and the way he moved belonged on a stage, but at the same time, it looked natural for him. Further, the way he moved, the flowing elegance, as if he knew where all parts of himself were at all times, was something that Elliott only saw in professional dancers as well. Given what he'd already learned about Lysander's history, it was likely. Elliott listened with attentive silence as the other man poured his thoughts into words and movement.  
  
“I _feel_. I _am_. I can’t do anything halfway. Everything I do is with all of myself."  
  
 _I can see it. You move and act without hesitation, and always with confidence. Being forced to hold yourself back must have felt as though you were chained down._  
  
Apparently emboldened or reassured by his audience, Lysander commented on his love of the performing arts, how it wasn't for self-gratification or accolades. It was for the love of it, and how it brings inspiration and wonder to those who view a performer's works. Elliott's smile became fond and sympathetic, as he had seen that first-hand, and greatly respected his position. Likewise, he agreed (at least mentally, he didn't want to interrupt) with Lysander that to do it just for the fame and fortune diminished both the art and the artist. Then Lysander's posture became a bit more guarded as his movements changed to more of a stalk than a stride.  
  
He described learning to fight, having had to defend himself verbally and physically from people in the past. Fortunately, he'd had no lasting injuries, but he had been hurt quite often and quite badly. With a dark twist to his lips he remarked that he _always_ gave better than he got, and nobody ever tried it twice. But it wasn't just for himself, Elliott could tell, something about the way he spoke hinted that he'd also often gone into battle, so to speak, for the sake of others, believing strongly in himself and what was right. Pausing in his pacing he fixed Elliott with a look that nearly made him jump. There was a fierce determination to it, but at the same time, there was something about it, a wariness that only one looking for it would see.  
  
“So, now you know my real face.”  
  
 _He's taking a massive gamble; he's not completely certain that he can trust anyone here, that he will be openly accepted for who and what he is. Scared to be rejected, yet he still makes the attempt to seek friendship, wearing armor made of bravado. I had feared getting too close, that he would be unreceptive to companionship, and to my surprise he shares that same fear._  
  
Elliott assuaged this fear, describing his thoughts during Lysander's dialogue, and making the open offer to be a sympathetic and confidential ear should he need to delve further into his situation. This was exactly what the other man had been looking for, and his relief was obvious as the smile returned, momentarily giving warmth to his hazel stare. He thanked Elliott for the offer, and confirmed his guess that Lysander did want to open up to people, to make friends, but wasn't sure until then who he could trust. Then he tapped a finger to his chin as he thought out loud.  
  
"When I left yesterday it seemed that you had finally obtained the words you were looking for. So much so that I had forgotten to get your number so I don’t drop in unannounced.”  
  
This was also unexpected, as while Elliott was not averse to giving out his number, it had been quite a while since it had been requested. Confirming his statement, he gestured to the laptop, remarking that while he now had a lot of good ideas with which he could work, he was still having difficulty in organizing them into the framework of a novel. Mimicking part of Elliott's pose, Lysander sat down on the piano bench and considered this, offering suggestions. But it wasn't just story ideas, it was how they were written; genre, style, overarching story arcs, settings, the nature of the tale... Elliott's jaw nearly dropped at the flow of information, but reminded himself that while the other man wasn't a writer, he was a professional actor, and therefore stories were his lifeblood as well.  
  
As he spoke of genres, a playful smile appeared. "I’m partial to a good adventure, and-" his laugh was amused and friendly, "promise not to tell anyone?” At Elliott's affirmation of silence, the grin got wider. “I do like a good romance.”  
  
“I would not have guessed," he said, laughing in amusement at being privy to such an admission, "you are a man of many surprises.”  
  
Shrugging and continuing to wear that smile, Lysander expanded on his preference, that not just _any_ romance would do, it had to be one that was believable, where the characters involved actually had chemistry and connections. Stories where it was based on mere physical attraction or the obvious and often-lewd expectations of the readers failed to grasp his interest.  
  
"Proper romance is more than that," he sighed, and Elliott was quick to agree, voicing the opinion that it was yet another area in which he assumed that Lysander devoted himself fully.  
  
“...Not anymore. Not again, for a while.” Feeling a quick jab of self-recrimination for misspeaking, he apologized, which was waved off cordially. “No, it’s okay, you didn’t know. Right now I’m happy to help others realize their dreams. I’ll find personal happiness eventually.”  
  
Deciding that it might be best to change the subject lest he say something else foolish, Elliott retrieved his phone and reminded Lysander of his offer to exchange contact information. New entries were made in both of their phones in just a minute, and Lysander seemed to already look more cheerful, despite his lament that he would likely be too busy the next few days to visit, as the farm was still a complete mess, though it was the volume of it that was the burden, not the difficulty. Noticing the look of embarrassment that Elliott was unable to hide, he apologized for appearing rude.  
  
It was Elliott's turn to wave away any implied offense. “To the contrary. I’ve been cavalier with your time and inconsiderate of your financial situation.”  
  
“No worries, I’m just getting started and can’t really do too much at the moment, which gave me the time to start making connections. Though I was sorta wondering how you sustain yourself, but you’re a writer, so you’re getting _something_ published.”  
  
 _He isn't wrong. I have had some small success, and I am far ahead of so many others, if I am honest with myself. I have not completed that which I still desire, but I am working toward it, and even before his arrival I was honing and practicing my skills._  
  
Allowing himself to finally accept what he'd been able to do so far, he confirmed that yes, he'd had a bit of luck with minor publications, though he still hadn't begun on his large-scale project. Finally he remembered the coffee that he'd set to steep earlier and got up to serve them both. Comfortable enough to go into a bit of his own history, he talked of his departure from home to Pelican Town the year before, though omitting a number of details that he didn't feel were important at the moment. Much as he'd described his situation to Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail the previous summer, he related the tale again, though he no longer felt any of the self-doubt that he'd carried before. Financially stable, he could live and work like this for a number of years before income became an issue, and his only stumbling block had been himself.  
  
"Your arrival is perhaps exactly what I needed in order to once more move ahead," he admitted, taking a deep sip of his drink, "but I also hesitate to impose upon someone who does not have the luxury of time or money that I do.”  
  
That hazel-tinted smile was almost as warm as his drink, and Lysander shrugged. “You don’t have to apologize for that. If I can’t manage my own time properly then it’s my problem, not yours. You know…” He was next to drink deep and long from his beverage as he contemplated something. “I wonder if we all can sit down together and just...chill. I’m already getting along well with Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail, and Haley, too, I suppose, but I don’t know much about any of you all, really. Maybe when I get a few spare hours we can arrange to just get to know each other a bit. Up by the park? I dunno, haven’t been over there yet. I’ll run it by the others whenever practice starts.”  
  
 _Practice? Oh! That's right, they have a band that they've been attempting to start for a while now. So he has already been made a part of it? I am not the least bit surprised, given what I witnessed yesterday. And I find myself completely unable to believe his statement at the Flower Dance that he has difficulty in making friends. Rather, he is such an open and welcoming soul that he draws others to him. Ha! Bright like a star and with his own gravity and gravitas, he pulls in those around him, dancing with them in heavenly circles._  
  
Elliott couldn't help but mirror that smile and held his coffee cup in both hands, feeling warmth flow through him from two sources at once. “I think that I would enjoy that immensely. A chance to start over and properly establish connections with the residents of this lovely community.”  
  
The smile became mischievous as Lysander thought aloud about giving Sam someone new to bother for a bit. “I think that Sebastian needs a bit of a break and would appreciate a different foil for a while.”  
  
From his limited yet boisterous interactions with the spiky-haired man, Elliott was once more in consensus with him. “He seems very...enthusiastic…”  
  
Another merry laugh was his reply, as well as the (very correct) opinion that Sam simply enjoyed being a gleeful nuisance, but was certain that they'd be good friends. His musings were interrupted by multiple messages, which he skimmed with one hand while sipping his coffee with the other. He put it down to send a reply, then pocketed the device and retrieved his beverage.  
  
“They appear to be ready to rehearse,” he said, sending his reply, “it looks like I should get going. Sorry it’s been a short visit.”  
  
Thanking him for the time that he had been able to spare, Elliott suddenly remembered that he'd completely forgotten to look for the music that he'd promised the day before. This didn't bother the musician any, as he was going to be too busy for a while to really do anything about it anyway, and he promised to set up a "group day" as soon as he had some spare time again. Reaching for his glasses, his smile almost became sunlight filtered through a window; not quite as bright or warm, and a little diminished.  
  
“Thanks again. For everything.”  
  
Elliott was a little sad to see the "mask" return, but understood its necessity for just a little while longer. "I must thank you for your trust as well. I hope that soon I will do something to justify it."  
  
"...You already have."  
  
  
For a little while longer Elliott wrote, though it was less transcribing ideas and more thinking about how they were to be utilized, using the help that he had been given that day. He felt quite satisfied with himself when he finally pushed back the chair and stood to stretch some hours later. A quick glance at the clock made him consider a few options, and with a feeling of confidence he grabbed his phone and wallet to depart for the saloon. He completely ignored Shane, assuming that nothing good would come of interacting with him after the last time he'd been there, and the scruffy man seemed to be quite annoyed by this, though he couldn't figure out whether he should be more frustrated that Elliott was doing so much better already, or that he'd chosen to shut him out with a nearly cat-like level of snub.  
  
Lewis was already there, working on his first gin and tonic. Ordering a simple mixed drink for himself, Elliott raised the glass in a small toast to the mayor, who returned it, relieved to see the writer looking MUCH better than he had in months. Upon hearing that this was due to Lysander's influence he couldn't help laughing heartily.  
  
"I'm not the least bit surprised. His dad's side just has this... _presence_. Even his mom does, so no wonder he's got it so strong. They just pull you in, and you can't help but follow, because they lift you up at the same time and make you want to be a better person. Lex and I may have been terrors in our youth, but he always meant well. And Art, ha! Complete firebrand. If Lys didn't inherit at least part of that I'll eat my hat."  
  
"While I have not yet been privy to his temper, I have been gifted with the presence of his compassion, and I find it almost humbling. Working in conjunction with him so far has been a delight I've not known in years."  
  
  
The next couple of days he spent more time at the keys of his piano than that of his laptop, suddenly seized with the urge to play, having almost forgotten how much he enjoyed it. He didn't consider himself a professional, but he was quite good, having practiced since he was a child. Part of the first day was devoted to searching through his terribly-unsorted boxes of papers to track down his music, and for most of the rest of that day and a third of the next he pulled out random pieces, just to test himself and his memory.  
  
Halfway through a particularly tricky one, he heard his phone buzz with a message, and was interested to see four others in the conversation chain.  
  
 _"I’m finally done, it’s going to take a few days to see if this does anything. Let’s meet up at the fountain tomorrow morning to hang out for a while, I need a day to do nothing but sit around."_  
  
How could he pass up this offer? The weather was lovely, and he could afford to take a day to be social. Further, he had promised to loan him the music, though he wasn't sure if Lysander would have the time to relax with any of it, as he had no idea of the state of the farm. He sent a reply that he would definitely be there, and upon sending it, had a moment of introspection. What was this strange feeling?  
  
 _I... Did I really forget what it was like to be excited for something? This last year has truly been unkind to me. This one appears to be making up for it already, and I am grateful for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	14. Something to Protect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //No commentary today. I'm'a sleep now.//

The anticipation remained with him to the next morning, and he had a laugh at himself for it. He'd been there a year and had known everyone longer than Lysander had, but in just the span of a week the newcomer had pulled everyone together and established connections that didn't before exist. Elliott still couldn't quite explain or understand it, but there was a strange aura that he had, an inexhaustible well of energy and confidence, both in himself and others. He just made one feel good about themselves.  
  
Showering and getting dressed in a leisurely manner, Elliott sat down in his computer chair to have a cup of coffee and review a few things before heading out. The windows were open, letting in the fresh smells of spring and the salt-edged mist off of the ocean. Everything felt so clean and bright, and he could feel the darkness and weight that had held him down the last few months almost completely shed themselves from his shoulders. He wasn't where he needed to be, not quite yet, but he was on the right path, and Lysander had illuminated it for him.  
  
Rinsing his cup in the sink, he set it aside to dry, then pocketed his phone and wallet. As he walked he breathed deeply of the cool breeze that swept inland from the sea. He strolled without hurry, not certain when everyone else would be arriving, but assumed that he'd be one of the first, as he recalled the others to be later risers than he was. Except for Lysander, he wasn't sure about him, but with the farm work it was likely that he and the sun greeted each other first thing in the morning. The plaza began to spread out in front of him, and he looked around, wondering where they'd meet up-  
  
Oh, Lysander was already there. And Alex, too, how strange-  
  
 _What?!_  
  
He stopped and stared as he watched Lysander snarl angrily at something that Alex said, and flowed neatly into the most elegant and solid punch that Elliott had ever seen, using his entire body in order to throw his full weight behind it. Somehow Alex didn't see him winding up for it, and Lysander hit with accuracy and power, knocking the athlete to the ground. The two of them shouted at each other before Alex got to his feet and swung back at Lysander, who dodged skillfully, further angering his opponent.  
  
 _Oh no, this is very bad. What prompted you to do such a thing?!_  
  
Elliott broke into a run, trying to reach them in order to break up the altercation before one of them got hurt. He wasn't the only one, as he saw the other four of their group approaching from the direction of their own homes, and seeing the fight, they likewise took to a run. To his amazement, Lysander eluded every punch, moving around Alex as though it were a duet. He was certain that his earlier impression was correct, as Lysander's movements weren't simply someone ducking randomly about, it was a trained dancer moving with confidence in their space. Elliott was quite certain that he'd also had some form of martial arts or other fighting training, as he also blocked and deflected some attacks instead of simply avoiding them.  
  
Seeing Lysander almost get clipped by a very close swing, he involuntarily called out to him, and realized his error as soon as he did so. Without thinking about it, Lysander turned to him, and this provided just enough of an opportunity for Alex to strike. Gasping in pain, he staggered and fell just as Elliott dashed over to try to catch him. He was successful, and barely was able to keep them both from being injured as he hit the ground hard enough to almost knock the wind out of himself.  
  
He sat up as he caught his breath, supporting his friend. "I've got you. Is it bad?"  
  
For a moment he was worried that Lysander had been hurt too badly to respond, but he put a hand to the side of his head as he set his jaw firmly in pain. “Nnngh, damn. Elliott? Is that…” Elliott just now noticed that Lysander had at some point traded the silver spectacles for a pair of small, black, round-rimmed sunglasses, which had somehow avoided being damaged when Alex had punched him quite firmly in the temple. Once more without thinking about it, Elliott pulled Lysander closer to himself as Alex approached, trying to be a shield against further attacks.  
  
With courage in his voice that he didn't feel, he stared up at the man looming over them. "This fight is over, stand down, Alex.”  
  
Somehow even angrier, the athlete clenched his fists as he glared back at Elliott. “So now you’re defending _him_? After what he did?”  
  
“You’ve never had something you wanted to protect?” This response surprised them both and got Alex to step back for a moment.  
  
“Alex, what’s going on? This isn’t like you.” To Elliott's relief, Alex turned his attention to Haley as she ran up, an impressive feat in heels, low as they were. He felt Lysander try to sit up under his own power, with middling success and gritting his teeth.  
  
“It’s okay guys, it’s not his fault. I started it, he finished it. Fair game.” Sebastian doubted this out loud while Alex did so silently, and Lysander managed a small, rueful grin in reply. “Mate, you have no idea. He was being friendly and said something I took the wrong way, then I overreacted and lashed out. My fault, Alex, sorry.”  
  
 _That's...not quite what I saw. Yes, you "lashed out," but his posture was arrogant, not friendly. Perhaps I am misreading it, however, as I have not had much luck in establishing a friendship with Alex, and this is likely coloring my perception of the events._  
  
His thoughts were interrupted as Lysander put a hand to his head again and almost went limp in his arms, obviously in great discomfort. Haley made the effort to check Alex's injury, but he refused her attempt and left quickly, looking as though his pride hurt more than his body. Sighing, she reassured everyone that she'd talk to him after he'd had a few minutes to cool off, though she was surprised that he'd hit Lysander as he had. With a chuckle, he admitted that he _had_ put Alex on the ground, and Sam was the next to express doubt about his statement.  
  
“No, I really did," Lysander replied, unable to turn and directly address his friend due to the pain, "I didn’t hit him that hard but he still went down. If I’d just have clipped him he might not have tried to tear me a new one that bad.”  
  
The four still standing weren't quite certain how to reply to this admission, and Elliott gently moved aside Lysander's hand and hair to examine him before suggesting that they take him to be checked at the clinic. Shaking his head (and immediately regretting it), Lysander refused, stating that while _it_ hurt, _he_ wasn't. As proof of this, he tried again to get up on his own and collapsed back into Elliott, who was halfway between concerned and amused. He asked for a moment to clear his head when Elliott decided that they might as well get going, as sitting around in the plaza like that was not only uncomfortable, but might draw questions they didn't need to answer at the moment.  
  
Shifting a bit to get his feet back under him, he picked Lysander up, and was barely able to hide a smile as the other man refused this treatment, looking quite embarrassed. “I’m okay, you don’t need to- Ow. Friggin’... Fine, you win." To his further surprise, Elliott felt a wave of satisfaction as his friend gave in, leaning into and borrowing strength from him for the moment. He wasn't without a smile for very long, however. "But usually at the end of being carried like this there’s a bed, and I’m in no condition to do anything but sleep in it.” Mirroring the simile, Elliott riposted that all there was to offer was a park bench, and Lysander's grin somehow grew wider. “At least I’ve a decent selection of handsome princes and lovely princesses, perhaps one of you will be kind enough to bestow me with a kiss should I doze off.”  
  
He, Sam, and Sebastian bantered back and forth as they walked, and Elliott noticed that Sam was carrying a guitar case, which he recognized as Lysander's. That's right, he must have set it down before he and Alex had their...scuffle... Once at the park, Lysander thanked Elliott for his help as he let him down, steadying him while he caught his balance. Elliott took a seat on one of the benches as the others did the same or sprawled on the grass.  
  
With his usual grin of confidence, Lysander professed that he was in good condition, which was proven wrong when he swayed on his feet and put a hand to his head once more. “Sorry, but I’m gonna need to borrow you again for a little longer. I’m proper amazed that he didn’t knock me out with that, and I’m rather wishing that he had.” Yet again Elliott was surprised, as Lysander almost gracelessly fell onto the bench and across his legs. He didn't _mind_ it, far from it, but the level of comfort that the other man had with him already was something that he did not expect. One arm across his midriff and the other across his eyes (almost dislodging the sunglasses), Lysander exhaled deeply and remarked that it was just now that he'd found himself again, and like his old self, immediately picked and lost a fight.  
  
This comment was interesting but confusing to Elliott, as he remembered him saying that he had often fought in the past, but it seemed to have been for the sake of others or in his own defense, not as an act of aggression. He wasn't sure if he should ask in front of everyone, and while he mulled it over Sam asked if he could borrow the guitar for a few minutes. Lysander gave permission, sounding a little distant, and Elliott noticed everyone settle into doing something of their own; Sam plucking at the guitar while Sebastian set up a laptop and microphone to record him, Haley brought out her camera, and Abigail was seated with her back to the fountain, already drawing something.  
  
 _How interesting. We only seem to be a "group" when he's directly influencing us. Left to our own devices, we revert to working alone._  
  
A gentle snore got everyone's attention, and Elliott almost had to bite the side of his hand to keep from laughing and waking the other man. It had been less than a minute and already he was sound asleep!  
  
Stifling a giggle as well, Haley raised her camera. “You know what? I don’t care, I need a picture of this, the two of you are just crazy cute like that.”  
  
This should have been embarrassing or made him feel self-conscious, but Elliott had to agree that technically, it was an endearing sight. “I am quite certain that he will be both pleased and amused to hear that," he replied, resisting the urge to brush aside a few stray, copper-red hairs. Instead, he took a minute to take stock of the changes that Lysander had made in the last few days. The simple shirt-and-khakis look had been replaced with sturdy cargo pants in black, and a dark grey, long-sleeved shirt under a violet, short-sleeved button-up that he'd left undone. He still wore the choker, but under it was a marbled, red, plastic guitar pick, that had been pierced and strung on a bit of waxed cord. This wasn't the only "jewelry" he had, as he wore bracelets on both wrists, with the same cord braided in a cobra stitch and two other picks woven in, in green and blue.  
  
How curious, he looked like a casual musician with this manner of dress, drastically unlike his "old" self. This was definitely his style, however, as though the clothes looked new, something about the way they were put together looked like it was something that he'd worn before. To his amusement, he also noticed that Lysander also seemed to have a preference for a neutral base with a single color, and once again had to resist a laugh that at least they hadn't dressed in a similar manner, _that_ could have been something embarrassing!  
  
But... _why_ would it have been embarrassing? This train of thought confused him. They were friends, yes, but nothing more, and it was not implied that they were. Elliott _did_ feel something for him, strangely, but it wasn't just friendship, it was...  
  
 _I want to protect him. Someone or something hurt him, and he's still recovering from it. He's trying to put up a front to keep anyone from noticing, but I can see it. No, he let me see it, he took the risk of being hurt again and trusted that I could be someone in whom he could confide his past, so that he could move on and heal. For that, and for helping me move forward once more, I have appointed myself a guardian without realizing it, and without his permission. He is likely too proud to accept that, and he seems to be the sort who watches out for others instead. I'll not mention it, and will back off. He asked for a companion, not a protector. And yet, how very curious, this is new to me. Charles has always looked out for me, and I am accustomed to others fighting on my behalf. ...Perhaps it is time for me to stand up and be the strength that others need this time._  
  
With one arm hooked over the back of the bench, he carefully reached over with his other hand to brush his fingers against the bracelet on one wrist, curious about its construction, and felt a quick jolt of worry as Lysander twitched, taking his hand. But it wasn't to grab his wrist or to brush him away; he wrapped his fingers around Elliott's, and seemed to relax even further, the snores fading to deep, regular breathing. A quick glance around reassured Elliott that nobody had noticed, as everyone else was ensconced in their respective activities. Letting out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding, he gently ran his thumb over Lysander's fingers, interested at how warm his touch was.  
  
 _Over and over you surprise and confound me. Completely comfortable with yourself and others, yet quick to assume that your close presence brings discomfort. And that reaction to me, it was someone close to you that caused you to run here, wasn't it? You're still used to such a personal level of physical contact on an instinctive level. The way you reached for me, that wasn't the way you'd touch a friend, it's the way you'd hold a lover's hand._  
  
Slightly saddened by this realization, he wondered again what had happened, but put it out of his mind. If it were important and Lysander were comfortable discussing it, he'd do so. Until then, it was none of his business. He deliberately distracted himself by observing his friends (yes, they were his friends now, weren't they?) and the park, feeling the gentle tug of ideas again. This reverie was rather short, as eventually Lysander woke abruptly and sat up, looking a little bleary and confused for a moment. Elliott felt a pang of regret for a moment as he pulled back his hand, but also felt relief that he seemed to be doing better for his nap.  
  
Haley looked up from her camera to inquire about Lysander's state, to which he asked how long he'd been asleep. It had only been around ten minutes, and Elliott considered to himself that it hadn't felt that long, but then, he had been lost in his own mind for most of it. As Lysander sat up and stretched from his nap, Elliott felt the need to do the same, as he felt a little stiff from sitting so still.  
  
Lysander noticed this and gave him a look of apology. “Sorry, didn’t think I was that heavy.”  
  
“You aren’t, but I hesitated to move, on the chance it would wake you.”  
  
The smile returned and he got to his feet, looking much better and commenting on that fact as he tucked his thumbs into his belt loops and began to walk back the way they'd come. Sam asked where he was going, and Lysander paused to turn back for a moment.  
  
“Off to talk to Alex. I really do feel bad about that. Regardless of what was said, it’s his opinion and he’s entitled to it, and I could have done a much better job of dealing with it.”  
  
Having seen the start of the fight but not heard the words that started it, Elliott wondered if they could now get an explanation. “What was it that was said, or is that something you desire to keep in confidence?”  
  
There was a moment of silence as Lysander looked away. “I don’t like it when someone insults my friends. Back in a bit.”  
  
While this was cryptic to most of them, this was somehow reassuring to Elliott, as it reinforced his assumption that he only fought in defense, even if he had been the first to throw a punch. But who had Alex said something about to cause such a thing? Possibly Sebastian, as it wasn't likely that the athlete got along with the software engineer. Or Sam, but to be quite honest, Elliott couldn't think of anyone who _didn't_ like Sam. It was like disliking puppies or something. There was also the possibility that there was someone else that Elliott wasn't aware of, but once again he put aside this train of thought. There was no point in speculating, and if they needed to know, Lysander would mention it.  
  
He got to his feet next to walk over to see what Sam and Sebastian were doing, and as he did so, a stray, strange thought passed through his mind: _It seems that he did not need a kiss to awaken after all. Perhaps next time._ This very nearly caused him to trip over himself as embarrassment washed over him. What?! Where did _that_ thought come from? Clearly he'd been in the sun too long or something. That must have been it. He joined the other two men in the shade, frantically shooing away that thought. It wasn't as though it were an unpleasant one, just...unexpected. That's all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	15. Synchronicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //*Bangs pots together and struts around the thread.* I HAVE NO CHILL AND REGRET NOTHING. WHOOOOOO.//

Neither Sam or Sebastian minded the intrusion, rather, they were surprised to find that he had any interest in their work at all. He remarked that while he was more proficient with words, he did have a little bit of musical talent, and as a fellow creator, he could respect and appreciate their work, even if writing music wasn't a skill that he possessed. With a grin as bright as the afternoon sun above them, Sam shrugged and plucked a couple of strings randomly, commenting that he had no end of ideas for songs, but the lyrics, _those_ gave him trouble. An idea occurred to him, and he played something experimentally, so Elliott returned to his bench to listen, wondering if there were a way to contribute. He was a literary writer, not a lyrics writer, but what were lyrics but poetry set to music? Perhaps this might be something he could try to further expand his skills.  
  
"Oh!" Sam remarked, turning to Elliott, "Lys gave me your number, but you don't have a Chatter account yet. Grab the app and I'll pull you in."  
  
"A...pardon? Ah, the instant messaging application? I can install it right now, but I'm not certain what the need is."  
  
"Uh, so we can talk with you and share stuff, duh," Sam grinned, pulling out his phone, "you're one of us now, so we gotta bring you into the loop."  
  
This was highly flattering, and as asked, Elliott installed the app (it was a rather small file, and downloaded quickly over the cellular connection) and created a username, at which point Sam added him to their chat group. Only another five or ten minute later Lysander returned, but what nobody expected was to see Alex in tow. Sam asked about this, and Lysander waved to him and seated himself next to Elliott as Alex went to the fountain, curious about Abigail's drawing.  
  
Crossing one leg over the other, the copper-haired man seemed pleased with himself. "We got things figured out. Matters were settled with a minimum of fisticuffs.”  
  
The sunny grin returned as Sam folded his arms over the guitar. “What, did you flirt with him until he chased you all the way up here?”  
  
With a mock pout of insulted injury, Lysander sniffed. “Of course not, we talked about it like adults. Besides, I’m still hurting from that punch. I’m in no mood to flirt with him.” Abigail offered the drawing for Alex to inspect as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking somewhat reticent, and apologized, particularly since he put his weight behind it. “Well, you can apologize by kissing it better," Lysander replied, then paused and blinked, chuckling at himself. "...Okay, I lied, I’m always in a mood to flirt.”  
  
Elliott was quite amused by this; Lysander was a completely different man than the one they had initially met only a week before, yet Elliott already found himself to be comfortable with this wild, flirty, boisterous personality. “You are truly indelicate in the art of love,” he teased, which now earned him a sniff of disdain.  
  
“What I do is not art, it’s a game, one at which we all win.”  
  
He couldn't resist the urge to tease Lysander a bit further, as he was interested to see what his response would be. “So the emotions of others are just playthings to you?”  
  
Almost as if it were scripted, Lysander stood and swept his arm across the group, gesturing grandly. “Not at all! The flirt is all about emotions, excitement and expectations. It is a fleeting moment of pleasure shared by two people selflessly, feeling the warm tingle of temporary passion. It is beautiful because it is momentary and ephemeral, created in just that moment for just that person.”  
  
This was almost too much for Elliott, who was only moments away from breaking into laughter. How delightfully absurd, how theatrical! Yet there was a genuine honesty to it, as though he played a game, one's emotions were not a toy. “And what of long-term affection?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, "are you capable of understanding and feeling the gentle warmth of true love?”  
  
Devious giggling from Abigail paused their little scene for a moment as she made hasty alterations to her artwork, which was met with approval by Haley. Lysander took the sketch pad, and Elliott leaned over to see what had been done. While the both of them had occupied the bench when Lysander had taken his nap, Abigail had taken the opportunity to sketch it, and apparently just now had added feathery wings to Elliott and batlike ones and cute fangs to Lysander. The two men offered their approval as well, and as Elliott returned the work in progress, Lysander's face lit up and he snapped his fingers, turning to him.  
  
“Hey, that sounds like a fun idea for a book. Two beings of power, competing for the attention of a lovely woman, determined to prove that their method is the best."  
  
 _What? How silly, that-_  
  
...  
  
 _That could work..._  
  
“That is…an interesting idea," he replied, as his mind suddenly spun up with ideas, "I do think that I could take that thread and spin it into a full story.”  
  
Elliott was not the only one to be inspired, as Sam bounced on the bench with sudden energy and prodded Sebastian to begin recording. Completely different than the somewhat lazy strumming and chord work he'd been doing earlier, this was bright and lively, but there was something else...  
  
"Run that again," Lysander said, grinning twice as wide as Sam did, "I have an idea."  
  
Now that Sam had a better idea of what he wanted to do with that piece, he started again, sounding more confident, and adding more to it. Elliott was impressed with this skill, but this train of thought was artfully derailed as Lysander launched into song, improvising lyrics on the fly.  
  
“I need you, my honey, the night is cold without you. Your touch, it excites me, it sets my heart on fire. Intoxicating sweetness, I crave the feel of your kiss. Tell me, my honey, what is it you desire?”  
  
 _By the light... Is this what he truly sounds like?_ Elliott wondered, _I have heard him once already, but it was warm and resonant. This is passionate and daring, and it suits him. It draws me in and I know exactly how to reply. No one has ever inspired me like this before, and I would challenge you to see how far we can go._  
  
Lysander appeared to have a second verse ready, but Elliott stepped in, much as he had back at the Flower Dance, testing himself as much as he did the other man. “My lady, I hold you, you are the light in my day. Your smile, it controls me, my soul is opened to you. Overwhelming feeling, as bright as summer’s zenith. Tell me, my lady, what would you like me to do?”  
  
A look of pure joy and enthusiasm spread across Lysander's face at Elliott's addition, as though he hadn't expected a vocal battle, he was ecstatic to see his friend open up. As he had at the Flower Dance, he tapped into his theater training, setting a "stage" for them both. “This fight of hearts is mine to win.”  
  
Mirroring Lysander's moves, he echoed his words as well. “This war of souls I will not lose.”  
  
“My honey!”  
  
“My lady!”  
  
“Give me your heart!”  
  
“Give you my soul!”  
  
They harmonized against each other with one last line, knowing exactly what the other person would say. “Tell me, which is it that you choose?” As Sebastian replayed some of it, holding a headphone to one ear as he clicked a few settings, Sam watched the screen and asked if he'd been able to get their voices as well with the microphone. Fortunately, he had, and the recording came out rather well, all things considered.  
  
With a somewhat theatric gesture of his own, Sam pointed at Elliott, looking serious yet excited. “Lys said you play piano really well. We need to find a place where we can set up together.” Sebastian protested this, remarking that it was rather rude to just up and recruit people without their consent like that, and Sam rebuffed him, jabbing at the screen and microphone. “Chill, Sebby, you know that a piano and electric guitar duet would kick ass for this. And did you hear their harmony? I just wanna borrow him for one song.”  
  
Shaking his head and sighing, Sebastian agreed to these points, but brought up the very real one that there was no way to fit a piano into Sam's already-crowded bedroom. A solution was quickly provided as Alex nodded toward the building nearby, remarking that the community center had been closed for some time, but he remembered there being a piano there. Sam liked this idea, as it would let them move all of the equipment that they already had into a much larger space, but Sebastian shot him down again, reminding him that though it wasn't in use, it also wasn't being used at all.  
  
Listening to them go back and forth, Lysander offered to speak with Lewis to see if he could get them permission. "It would allow you to get a full professional setup. I’ve set up equipment for dad’s gigs, so I know how to run cables and hook up speakers and the like. It’d give you the chance to really calibrate your songs toward a live audience and how all parts will need to be balanced." This produced a couple of secondary thoughts, and he spoke out loud as he considered them. "Well, we’d probably need to purchase all of that since I have no idea what the setup is like there, so it’s kinda a future project, but it’s possible. Damn, I just realized, I know how to run a soundboard but it looks like I’ll have to teach someone else if I’m on bass."  
  
He trailed off as he noticed everyone watching him with quiet surprise, except for Sam, who had a rather punch-drunk grin, and Elliott understood; it was the same feeling he'd had when Lysander had opened up his mind to new possibilities and a greater future as well. Lysander cleared his throat and continued. “I’ll contact the mayor and see what I can do about getting it opened back up. A bit more space to work wouldn’t be a bad thing, and I also want to hear what Elliott could do with that song. Provided you’re interested."  
  
 _Yet again he is courteous of someone else's needs. He nudges and guides, wanting you to do your best, but never pushes you out of your comfort zone. This is an opportunity that I cannot pass up. I can become so much more than I ever could alone, and I must admit, no small amount of this is pure curiosity._  
  
He smiled, assuaging Lysander's concern. “This morning I might have refused, but I now find myself intrigued. However, I’ve never performed with an ensemble before.”  
  
Sam whooped in delight, eager to have him on board, not just as a musician, but also as a lyric writer, which flattered Elliott to no end, as he hadn't volunteered his skills earlier because he didn't want to be intrusive. He agreed to these terms, and almost stumbled as Sam reached out to grab him by the sleeve and drag him over.  
  
"Cool. Both of you, get over here, throw ideas at us. Sebby, start typing, this is gonna kick ass."  
  
  
The rest of the afternoon was spent working on this piece, and though it was challenging, it was also greatly rewarding, as he and Lysander already had a decent synergy going on, and they put together a few more verses that, while a little rough at the moment, had the potential for a very catchy song. As the shadows began to grow longer, Sam set aside the guitar to reach for the case, flexing his aching fingers. As he did so, he snapped his fingers and winced from the feeling, glancing over at Lysander. “Hey, Lys, what’s ‘Resonance’ mean?”  
  
This was a strange question, and before Elliott could ask, he saw Sam tilt the guitar toward his friend. Silver ink reflected brightly in the late afternoon sun, contrasting with the black instrument, and once he had a better angle, Elliott saw the word "Resonance," written neatly in simple script.  
  
Lysander's smile was fond and warm. “That’s its name,” he replied, and when Sam asked why he'd done that, he rubbed the guitar-pick necklace between his forefinger and thumb. "Why not? It’s been my closest companion for years. It’s actually my first instrument, bought with my own money. That’s also this necklace, my first guitar pick.”  
  
 _How curious, I hadn't expected that, but I am not surprised. The skill with which you handle that instrument is as though it is an extension of yourself._  
  
They all began to pack up their gear and prepare to leave; Sam put away Resonance and began disconnecting peripherals from the laptop as Sebastian stood up, walked away a few feet, and pulled out a pack of flavored cigarettes, lighting one. Abigail's sketch pad and pencils went into a backpack, and Haley's camera went into a padded case. Taking his guitar, Lysander remarked that he'd meet with Alex in the morning for a run, and would expect Haley on the farm in the next few days to photograph a few things. As Sebastian blew a thin stream of smoke, Abigail put her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees, asking him what they tasted like, as they smelled rather interesting. Perplexed, Sebastian didn't quite have an answer, and Elliott saw an impish grin flicker across Lysander's face. Wondering what he was thinking of, Elliott began walking to the entrance to the park, when he noticed that Lysander was striding over to Sebastian instead.  
  
"Maybe I can help answer that?" Not at all impressed with Lysander's smirk, he offered the cigarette anyway, and his eyes went wide with surprise as, instead of taking the smoldering object, he gently flicked his fingers from Sebastian's elbow to his wrist, holding his friend's hand in his own and pulling his hand closer to take a slow, careful drag. Glancing over at his friends, Elliott noticed that everyone was trying very hard not to laugh at the sudden, sensuous display. "It’s clove and strawberry; sweet, but smoky and bitter. Dark, intoxicating, and intense. A bit like you."  
  
Elliott felt a sudden, surprising stab of jealousy as Lysander deftly plucked the cigarette from Sebastian's unresponsive fingers and kissed him on the cheek, waving to everyone as he departed with a jaunty stride and taking another puff off of the stolen cigarette.  
  
 _...Jealousy? I must have been in the sun too long today. It is true, I find him to be attractive, and he is affectionate, but that is simply his personality, it is not personal. Why do I always make things so unnecessarily complicated?_  
  
He playfully rebuked Lysander for his mischief as they fell into step with each other, heading south out of the plaza. With a laugh and a shrug, Lysander acknowledged it, as well as it being a rather naughty thing to do to their introverted friend, but promised to make it up to him soon. He couldn't help it, he admitted, it was nice to be able to completely be himself and be accepted for it. When Elliott commented on the cigarette, not having pegged him as the smoker type, Lysander replied that it was a recent thing that he'd picked up from Sebastian, and that it was an intermittent, social thing.  
  
“That is something for which I must thank you," Elliott smiled, "I had forgotten what it was like to enjoy the company of others, and I am certain that I’d likely never have obtained the courage to approach others myself." He'd almost never attempted to make friends his entire time in Pelican Town since everyone else had always come to him first. But now that he was a part of the group, he was enthusiastic about it, and it was Lysander's turn to express surprise, having thought that he'd dragged Elliott in without seeing if he was interested in the first place.  
  
Inhaling deeply off of the cigarette, he exhaled slowly, and Elliott could already tell that he needed to get something off of his chest. Elliott listened quietly as his friend chided himself for being too pushy and physical with others. There had been a number of lovers in Lysander's past, as he was comfortable with himself and casual physical contact with others. "For me, love and lust are two different things; there’s nothing wrong with physical pleasure, and sharing it with others is something I enjoy, as long as they’re comfortable with it." He had always been a considerate and caring partner, whether it was for one night or in a relationship, and he missed that sort of physical intimacy, but knew that not many people shared his views. Besides, everyone here was a good friend and he didn't want to risk ruining that companionship.  
  
It took a few steps before Elliott realized that Lysander's silence had also meant a cessation of movement, as he stared off at nothing for a moment. Lysander was lost in thought, recalling the source of his pain. “I got burned. Bad. I was stupid and reckless and got other people hurt, and in some way I deserved it. The pain and scars are still too fresh, and I don’t want to risk screwing up the friendships I already have here. Everyone here is so nice, genuinely so. I want to protect that. I’ll find happiness for myself once I finally deserve it. For now, I’m helping others realize their dreams; Sam, Alex, Haley, you… I wonder if I should just lock myself away again for a while longer until I can learn a bit of self-control.”  
  
Elliott said nothing, only offering a hand on his shoulder in silent support. This seemed to be what Lysander needed, as the smile returned and he squeezed his hand in return, quietly thanking him for understanding. Returning on their path back to his cabin, Elliott remarked that he was quite glad to have him as a friend, and that though he had never been quite so free and open with affection, he understood and respected Lysander's position. He explained his own upbringing, that while decorum wasn't exactly expected, his family did have a reputation to uphold, and he'd had to be a bit more discrete in his interactions with others. Where Lysander's love was physical and straightforward, Elliott's was in his music and writing, which produced a laugh of delight from the other man.  
  
“That’s mature for someone who was so young. I can see how you’ve been able to keep up with me, then. I’m a brilliant musician and vocalist, but still can’t do lyrics or composing that’s worth anything.”  
  
As Lysander wrapped what was left of the consumed cigarette in a tissue, Elliott found himself a little perturbed at this statement. “I feel that I must rebuff your statement with your earlier actions. That improvisation with Sam’s song? And mine? You heard a song twice- _twice!_ , and you were able to immediately run with it. That’s talent.”  
  
Grimacing, Lysander rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno, my lyrics weren’t very good-”  
  
As he had with his brother, Elliott flicked at Lysander's ear, a habit that they both had when the other person was being particularly bothersome. “Stop that or I shall become annoyed. Do not denigrate your skill in front of me. In your words, you are brilliant, and if you have a failing it is that you expect too much of yourself, and when you fail you believe that you aren’t good enough. You aim higher than nearly anyone I have ever met, and if you do not hit the target for which you are aiming then not only are you still ahead of so many others to begin with, you still end up further because you chose to challenge yourself.”  
  
For a moment he worried that he'd overstepped his boundaries, as Lysander's eyes were wide with surprise. This lasted an even shorter moment as Lysander laughed heartily. “You are so hot when you’re being commanding!” Elliott was caught completely off-guard as the other man hugged him around the shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, then immediately realized what he'd done and stepped back. “Ah! Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to- Um…”  
  
 _...Oh. Well, he did say that he was accustomed to 'physical closeness around friends.' And once more he is concerned that he has gone too far and offended or embarrassed me. To see him have to hold himself back is an injustice. I am unused to such casual forms of affection, but I am also not bothered by it._  
  
“Do not change, Lysander," he said with a reassuring smile, "you are honest and energetic, and I need that in a friend.” Leading the way into his home, he remarked that he felt that he was too withdrawn, needing someone to help him get used to being social, and that Lysander's influence would help him change that. He retrieved the music that he'd found, handing over the folder, which Lysander eagerly skimmed.  
  
“Nifty, this looks like fun. I bet I can transpose and interpret these for guitar without a problem. Though I don’t know if I want to try rhythm backup or lead part first.”  
  
Elliott tapped him on the forehead, reinforcing his earlier point. "What did I just say? Listen to yourself, you are skilled, and I will not allow you to speak otherwise around me.” Just then he noticed something strange and instinctively reached over, but pulled back his hand suddenly. Glancing up, Lysander inquired about his hesitation, and Elliott gave him a small, embarrassed smile. "Ah, just, I think that your bruise is beginning to show. Apologies, I was almost a bit forward.”  
  
With a rueful grin, Lysander shrugged. “‘Forward’ is me glomping you a moment ago. This is you looking out for a friend. I don’t mind." He asked Elliott to have a look, commenting on his fortune that he'd not been hurt as badly as he could have been.  
  
Reassured by Lysander's indifference, Elliott brushed aside the bangs on the left side of his face and saw that the injury was already beginning to show. “It’s not that bad, it seems. You’ll be a little colorful for a few days, but your hair will hide it, and you don’t seem to be in any discomfort." This time it was Elliott that felt a moment of mischief, and he went with it, allowing himself to be spontaneous for once. "Which reminds me, you _did_ ask earlier…” Lysander made a noise of curiosity as Elliott leaned over and kissed Lysander on the temple. His eyes went wide again as he nearly dropped the papers he was holding, eliciting a chuckle of success. “It appears that I am finally getting a grasp on this ‘flirt’ you do, and I suppose that I can see the appeal. I may be ‘hot’ when commanding, but you are adorable when flustered.”  
  
This was the first time that Elliott had seen him silent with surprise like this, and once Lysander had found his voice again, he commended him for it. His expression changed again as he saw the time, needing to get home while there was still light out to check how his garden had done during his absence. He thanked Elliott for the music before dashing off, promising to update him as soon as he had word on the community center's status.  
  
Around an hour later, as Elliott unbuttoned his shirt and hung it up, his phone buzzed with an unfamiliar noise, and upon checking it, saw a Chatter message.  
  
 **SixStrings:** it’s cool for us to use the old CC, not sure on time yet  
  
Already? Lysander had wasted no time! Elliott typed a reply and saw that he wasn't the only one who had seen the message.  
  
 **RawkStar:** whooooooo  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** excellent, you are moving quickly on this endeavor  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** not before noon, okay, I feel like sleeping in tomorrow  
  
 **PurpleGoth:** he can just come over and give you wake-up kisses :3  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** *sigh*  
  
 **SixStrings:** soz m8  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** …  
  
 **SixStrings:** no really, sorry, that wasn’t cool of me  
  
 **PurpleGoth:** don’t care, got a new phone background  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** wat  
  
 **SixStrings:** um  
  
 **RawkStar:** ROFL  
  
 **PurpleGoth:** Haley is a digital ninja with that camera :D  
  
Still amused from the day's events, Elliott replied with a little bit of cheek and sass.  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** it appears that your quota of fanservice was met for today  
  
 **PurpleGoth:** I dunno who I ship more, though, Lys  & Elliott or Lys & Sebby XD  
  
 **SixStrings:** ...thanks?...  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** I’m out, see you tomorrow  
  
 **PurpleGoth:** aww, but you know you’d make such a cute uke, Sebastian!  
  
Elliott wasn't quite sure what that word meant, and knowing her, and what she had already posted, he was quite certain that it was something naughty or strange.  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** do I want to know?  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** no  
  
 **SixStrings:** no  
  
 **RawkStar:** yes  
  
 **L33tK3ys:** seriously?  
  
 **RawkStar:** I just wanna see Abby explain ‘uke’ to Elliott  
  
 **SixStrings:** later, trust me. See you all tomorrow  
  
He laughed at the rest of the replies, and on a whim did an internet search for the term. Finding it, he blushed deeply.  
  
 _...Oh my. Well then. You learn something new every day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	16. A Shared Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Just one or two more chapters and we get to diverge a bit, where the chapters don't parallel as hard. You came here for new stuff, not just the old things repackaged all funny. I refuse to be the George Lucas of SDV, damn it. :P//

Yawning as he awoke, Elliott folded his hands behind his head after a satisfying stretch, staring at the ceiling. He thought over the events of the day before, still feeling pleased with a day spent with, well, friends. It was new but fun, and it appeared that this day would hold more of the same. Then he recalled the end of the day and groaned to himself, turning over to bury his face in the pillow. Had he _really_ done that? Augh! How unlike him, he shouldn't have done that.  
  
And yet...  
  
Folding his arms under the pillow and resting his chin atop it, he reconsidered that train of thought.  
  
 _Well, yes, it was unlike me, but not unlike him. And I did want to change myself coming out here. I have always been too withdrawn and antisocial, not because I spurn the company of others, but I fear their rejection. Here I have found nothing but companionship, and a particularly unusual one at that. Lysander did not appear to be offended or bothered by my...contact, and even seemed to be amused by it. He did state that he is accustomed to being close around friends, and aside from Sam, it seems that I am the only other one who feels the same way. Perhaps I can allow myself to open up without fear for once._  
  
Sitting up, he reached over to unplug his phone and check it, and as he did so, it buzzed in his hand. Sam had sent a group-wide message, reminding them all that they were going to check out the community center that day, so don't forget, and don't be late! This amused Elliott, as while Lysander had stated that they were getting permission, there hadn't been a set time. He couldn't fault Sam's enthusiasm, however, as he shared the exuberance of finally feeling a long sought-after project coming to fruition. The phone went back onto the bedside table as he got up and leisurely took a shower.  
  
The rest of his preparations were also done at a relaxed pace, and once his hair was brushed he fastened his earrings as he strolled into the kitchen, returning back to the bedroom to retrieve his phone, and saw that no new messages had come through. A cup of coffee was the only thing to happen quickly, which was sipped with care as he scrolled through news and events on his phone. Once he was finished with it he finally felt the tug of excitement and quickly washed out the cup. He grabbed his phone and wallet as usual, and left with a quicker stride than usual.  
  
His walk was brisk and pleasant, and a few last cherry blossoms floated on the wind as he walked. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing but spring, finally having pushed out winter and carved out its niche in the world. This town was magnificent, resplendent in every shade of green he could think of. It inspired him further, and he let his mind wander as he traveled, greeting the few townsfolk who were out and about at this time of day. Arriving at the park, he was not the least bit surprised to see that Sam was already present. Abigail got there only minutes later, yawning broadly.  
  
"Hey, dude, glad you could make it!" Sam grinned as he waved, "I can't wait to hear you rock out on that piano in there."  
  
Flattered once more, Elliott chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I thank you for your high opinion of my skill, but I'm not certain that I'm quite _that_ good."  
  
"Pssh, you and Lys are so freakin' _modest_. He sounds totally awesome, and if he said that you're good I know you're excellent. And it means we've got a third voice for vocals, too. Abby and Sebby aren't keen on singing, and you and Lys, you two just... Just damn, y'know? I dunno if you and I'd mix that well, but we'll hafta try, I need to see what else you can do after that vocal battle yesterday."  
  
Elliott was almost knocked over by the torrent of information from the musician, who very nearly vibrated in place with pent-up excitement. This was something that Elliott wasn't used to at all! He was rather good at most everything he'd tried, but he'd never considered himself to be "excellent." And here was someone who he knew to be a very talented performer and composer that wanted his skills? He would have to do his best so as not to disappoint. As he considered this Lysander walked up, followed by Sebastian, and without thinking about Elliott smiled as he approached.  
  
"Good morning, Lysander, and to you as well, Sebastian, I hope we didn't rouse you too early."  
  
Haley entered the park at this time, though she was paying more attention to the photos on her camera than where she was going, and Lysander flashed them all a grin as he took in his audience. “Hey, I didn’t expect everyone to be here so soon.”  
  
Abigail shrugged as she stretched, having got up earlier but was still sleepy. “Sam woke up early for some reason and messaged everyone, so since that woke me up I figured I might as well head over.”  
  
Elliott's smile became a little self-conscious as he remembered Sam's text. “I am usually an early riser but was not planning on arriving until later. However, I found his enthusiasm to be rather...infectious.”  
  
Almost bouncing around, Sam remarked that it had been some time since it was in use, but there was definitely enough room for everyone as well as their gear, and Lysander cautioned him that it may be true, but whether or not things were in workable condition, especially the piano, assuming there _was_ one, could derail their plans. The status of the piano, and its state, were confirmed by the mayor, who walked up, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. Lysander thanked him for his generosity, which was waved aside politely.  
  
“Far from it, it pains me to see this place in disuse. Your grandfather and I spent a lot of time here in our youth, you know. Having it used for the same purpose lights a fire in my heart.”  
  
He opened the door, took a moment to find the light switch, and stepped aside to let everyone else enter. As he followed old memories to the others, the other members of the band took a look around. This thought made Elliott pause in his stride; he was a part of it now, wasn't he? Ah! And there was a piano!  
  
He heard Lysander set Resonance on a table and open one of the latches, pausing to take in his surroundings with the rest of them. “I remember that he said you two were close friends, and told me a lot of stories. He always smiled when he did, they seemed to be some of his most fond memories.”  
  
Before Elliott could test the piano, Lewis sat down at it, looking a little sad, and nodded with a sigh as he confirmed Lysander's statement. "You know, it’s been years since I played piano, and longer since I heard it, but I remember a tune that we always played together, with him on that old guitar of his. I wonder…”  
  
Listening carefully, Elliott tapped a finger to his chin as Lewis played a tune that he clearly knew but hadn't practiced in quite some time. It was rough, but the chords and melody were there.  
  
 _3/4 time, and a slow piece, but not plodding. It is set in a minor key, giving it a wistful sound, but I'm certain that it is a versatile piece and can be modified in a number of ways. I would like to experiment with this just as Lysander did mine._  
  
Vaguely aware of Haley complimenting Lewis's playing, it was her gasp of shock that brought him around. "Sweetie, what’s the matter?”  
  
Turning to see what had her so concerned, Elliott very nearly jumped himself to see Lysander completely in tears, nails digging into the hard guitar case. He said something about it being his grandfather's song, and the last time that he had heard it was when... He didn't finish his thought, instead roughly biting the side of his hand.  
  
Without thinking Elliott stepped over and pulled away his hand, holding it in both of his own. "Stop that, we're your friends, you can talk to us. What happened?"  
  
Pressing a handkerchief into his other hand, Haley asked him if the song was something meaningful to him, and the sudden grip on Elliott's hand told him just how much it was. He tried to apologize, still unable to complete a sentence.  
  
 _He is hurt. Twice. That song is something very close to his heart, and breaking down in front of us like that is embarrassing. You continue to amaze and surprise, and with each new discovery I want to protect you even more._  
  
Lewis appeared to be a little embarrassed as well, for inadvertently bringing up bad memories. “He taught that to you. It was your first song, wasn’t it?”  
  
With a sigh, he straddled the bench and rested his elbows on his knees, recalling his correspondence with his friend. As he talked, Elliott remembered some of it, as Lewis had told him at great length (and with great fondness) over drinks at the saloon over many nights, but it wasn't until now that they began to really sink in, how they were _real_ stories and _real_ people. And now one of those people was nothing more than a memory to two others in the room, and he began to understand just how much he had meant to the both of them. There had been no one in his own life so far that could evoke such a state in him, and he strangely felt regret for it; Lysander was clearly in pain over the loss, but at the same time his grandfather must have been a brilliant and wonderful person for him to feel this way.  
  
"That's Harmony, isn't it?" Lewis asked, gesturing to the guitar case. It wasn't, and Harmony had not been played since Lysander's grandfather had passed. For a moment there was a flicker of a smile, as though the memory cut him deeply, playing his song one last time for him had given his grandfather closure and peace.  
  
Having taken control of himself, Lysander quietly squeezed Elliott's hand one last time in thanks and opened the case. He handed over Resonance, which Lewis examined with interest, and commented on the unique properties of the instrument and how, like his friend, Lysander chose to be different and wore it well. As he returned it, he offered to share the letters and photos that had been sent to him, which appeared to ease the ache a little. This reminded Lysander of something, and he produced a photo of his own, tucked between the hard body of the case and the padding inside. It was quite old, possibly close to twenty years in age, but despite the distance of time it was obvious who it was; Lysander sitting on his grandfather's lap, deeply focused as he practiced something.  
  
 _By the light! Little wonder he possesses such skill. Mentored by one who has played most of his life, and playing for most of his own. Not just a professional, he is a virtuoso. And I must agree with Haley and Abigail, he was a cute child. He has matured quite respectably as well. Lewis must be so proud to see his friend's lineage flourish like this._  
  
As Lysander took back the photo and carefully put it back, Lewis returned Resonance, asking to hear the song from him. Elliott stepped back to give him room, and leaned against the piano, curious to hear how it would be rendered this time. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, Lysander was silent and unmoving for a moment. Then, his fingers found their familiar place on the frets, and the song began. This was...beautiful. Elliott had been right, it was wistful, and a little sad, but he could feel the years and memories within those notes. The first time he had an idea of what it could be, but now he _knew_ what it _should_ be, and sat down next to Lewis, who got up to let him have the entire bench. Closing his eyes, Elliott listened, taking in the entire sound, comparing it against what Lewis had played, and spinning together a new composition. He heard the song end, its final notes humming on the strings and in the body of the guitar. Yes, that's how this needed to go...  
  
He could not have done this a month ago. Not even a week ago. But after that lyric writing exercise at the cabin, and then that sudden duet at the park, Elliott no longer hesitated. He knew his skill and was confident in it. This song, this beautiful piece, it meant so much to this one person that already had done so much for so many here. It was a small thing, but he knew that he could take it and do something new. Not _better_ , no, there was nothing to improve. But there were so many ways in which it could be made different and unique, and this was _his_ change. From Lewis it was uneven and from Lysander it was melodic, but the memory was the same. From Elliott, however, it was elegant, a song that danced and flowed.  
  
Lysander was stunned by this, and Elliott didn't hide a smile at it. “You… You heard that _twice._ ”  
  
“As did you with Sam’s and my songs," he replied, without missing a note, "you aren’t the only one who can pick up a tune quickly. You know my song, and now I know yours.”  
  
He returned to the beginning, and was joined by Lysander, and the tone of the tune changed again; still elegant, but the dance was now a duet, and Elliott could also hear the change of the energy with which his friend played. Every eight bars they passed the melody to each other, transitioning without error. Remembering the last time that they had done this, Elliott could not resist the opportunity to test him once more.  
  
“Key change and final verse!”  
  
Lysander almost stumbled as he realized what Elliott had in mind. “Wait, what?"  
  
Like before, Elliott gave a four-bar bridge to step up from minor to major. “Keep up!”  
  
Of course Lysander caught on immediately. It was his song! He laughed at the call-back, and Elliott shared his delight, seeing the pain finally fade and be replaced with a vibrant warmth. The room and their ears were filled with sound, imparting an energy that they could see reflected in those who listened. It was marvelous! As the song finished Elliott almost held his breath, feeling the final vibrations of the instrument under his fingers fade away, and he was certain that Lysander was doing the same with Resonance.  
  
A new voice broke him from his reverie, as Alex gave them both a confused but inquisitive look. “That all was the same song? All three of those? But they all sound different. And the same. That’s weird.”  
  
Elliott wasn't certain how to explain it, but Lysander had one, and far better than he could ever have offered. “That’s how music works. On paper it’s just bits of dots and dashes and snippets of directions and notations. It’s logical, cold, and precise. But what makes it amazing is when someone reads and plays it, and everyone does it a little differently. You heard that just now; Lewis plays it stiffly but carefully because it’s a fond but old memory for him. I also have fond memories of it but flow with it because that’s how I remember playing it with Grandpa. And Elliott and I… That was someone learning something new and sharing it with the person who’s known it almost forever. His interpretation of it was what he heard of our own versions of the same song, and what he had just heard of the person who taught it to us, and together we created something new. It’s the same song, but the way it’s told changes with the people doing the telling.”  
  
A tingly warmth flushed through Elliott at this, not just at his own success at trying something new, but doing so well with something that belonged to another. Alex perked up at Lysander's explanation and offered one of his own, that it was like a family's heirloom sword, one that's been repaired and reforged so many times that nothing of the original is left, but despite that, there's something of it that has remained the same over time. This observation amused Lysander, who agreed, it was an heirloom of sorts, and now it was his, no longer just his grandfather's. Thinking about it produced another batch of tears that he scrubbed away as soon as they appeared.  
  
"Damn it, it’s been a few years and it still hurts. But I’m glad to have heard and shared this song again.”  
  
Lewis identified the tune as "Stardew Valley," but was unclear whether it was the name that his friend had given to it, or if the name had been handed down along with the song when he had received it. He stood and retrieved the keys from his pocket, handing them to Lysander, who almost returned them immediately. As the guitarist sought words of his own, Lewis remarked that he had duties to attend, so he'd fill him in on the care and running of the community center later. But for the moment, the stereo equipment was also in good repair, and was in one of the storage rooms, which they were free to use as they needed.  
  
Finally finding his tongue, Lysander alternated his gaze between the keys and Lewis. “You trust all of this to me? Just like that?”  
  
“My boy…" Lewis cut himself off and shook his head, smiling again. "No, you’re not a boy. You’re a young man, and you made a very old man feel almost half a century younger, and for a moment I saw a close friend that I hadn’t seen in a decade. This is the least I can do. I’ll be back later.”  
  
Lysander's mouth still hung open as Lewis departed, whistling the tune to himself, and tried to figure out how to juggle the keys, the guitar pick, and the guitar, not sure which one to set down first. He had just figured that out and set all three objects on the table when Haley stalked over and prodded him roughly in the chest with a well-manicured finger.  
  
“I am angry at you, Lysander, you lied to us!” His thoughts were completely in a tangle now, and he could only reply with a question of his own before she poked him again. “You said when we first met that you weren’t good at making friends and getting along with people, and here you are with six people all worried about you and ready to work on a project that you took charge of because you wanted to help everyone. The mayor even likes you and he’s usually a total grump. Further, that song nearly made me cry, and I don’t do that for just anyone.”  
  
It was difficult for everyone to not laugh at this scene, with Lysander being menaced by Haley's bright blue stare, fists on her hips, and somehow managing to pout while glaring. The mental gears finally stopped grinding against each other and meshed once more, and the shock became a smile again. He thanked her and admitted that yes, he _had_ lied to them, but not quite. Elliott hid a smile of his own, remembering how Lysander had expressed this concern to him earlier that week, and was pleased to see him able to finally tell it to everyone else without fear.  
  
“This is me. Right now, right here, no more masks or disguises. I’ve still got secrets, and I’ll tell those when it no longer hurts to think of them, but otherwise, I’ve nothing else to hide. I’ll be completely and bluntly honest about anything you ask, because I respect all of you enough to tell you the truth. I don’t do anything halfway, so if you want or start something you had better be ready to finish it. No, I was never good at making friends because nobody else was willing to open up and be true to themselves. I refused to hide away and most people didn’t know how to handle that. So...if everyone will let me, I’ll be your friend and support and help you all in any way I can.”  
  
One by one, his friends offered their own support and gratitude for what he'd been doing, and his relief was obvious. Bouncing the keys on his palm, he flashed them a grin that very nearly lit up the room on its own. They had equipment to find and set up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	17. Friendly Mischief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Popping out of town again for the weekend, going to have two tablet-updates, here's hoping nothing goes wonky. Yay.//

As Lysander went down one hall to look for the storage room, Elliott had a look around the community center. Even though he had no experience with a professional band, he could see that there was plenty of space in this main room for all instruments involved. He heard a jingling of keys down the hall, so apparently Lysander had found the storage room. In no particular hurry, he strolled toward the corridor as Lysander successfully opened the room, turned on the light, and walked in. His yelp of surprise was unexpected, as well as him springing backwards with an impressive level of speed and agility, flattening himself against the wall. Sam walked over and inquired about his reaction, and Lysander's grin was somewhat embarrassed now.  
  
"Ah, heh. Spider. Big one."  
  
Sam disappeared into the room, and from Lysander's reaction, had apparently caught the spider and was trying to show it to his friend. As Sam emerged from the storage room, his hands cupped around something, Lysander sprinted down the hall, very nearly impacting Elliott, and ducked behind Sebastian.  
  
"What- Hey! The hell, Lys?"  
  
"Get him away from me!"  
  
Smirking, Sam approached the both of them, and though she wasn't in his direct path, Abigail still reached into her pocket and flipped open her butterfly knife, threatening him both verbally and physically. Sam had paused in his advance next to Elliott, who gave an indifferent shrug and had a look at what Sam had caught, not just to distract him from the others, but to ensure that the spiky-haired nuisance had not accidentally picked up a venomous spider.  
  
“Hmm. A regular orb weaver of some sort. Lots of those around here," he observed, and Sam giggled as his captive skittered around in the space between his palms. Once again he offered to show it to Lysander, who was quite shouty at this point about his lack of interest in such a thing, and was trying quite unsuccessfully to hide behind Sebastian, who was not the least bit amused. Sebastian's patience was nearly spent, and with a groan of irritation, he directed Sam to release the spider outside, who tried one last time to get a rise out of someone when he passed by Alex. However, the athlete, like Elliott, was curious but uninterested.  
  
Returning and showing his open hands to prove that he had discarded his quarry, he grinned again as he got close to Lysander, wiggling his fingers. "SPIDER HANDS!!"  
  
Once again Lysander got very shouty, but this time he grabbed Sebastian around the waist and picked him up, using him a shield. Sebastian's patience was completely gone.  
  
"Augh! Lysander Erik von Morgensonne, _put me down!_ ”  
  
Elliott winced in sympathy as Sebastian grunted with pain, as his outburst surprised the taller man enough to drop him instantly on command, and Lysander blinked a few times as he sorted his thoughts and self. “Bloody HELL, ‘Bas, you wield the power of a full name like a tactical nuke. Sorry about that.” Abigail asked him if that was in fact his middle name, and he confirmed it as he helped Sebastian get up, though it was spelled with a "k" and not a "c." Elliott was barely able to hide a smile as he considered this new information.  
  
_A name that suits you, I see, one belonging to a hero, who possesses energy and honor. Yet you wear your name with humility, preferring to support others than stand out in front._  
  
Lysander rolled his eyes at Sam, who had been oblivious to the fact that his full name had been in his contact information, and sighed as he crossed his arms across his chest. “If we’re done giving me grief over my arachnophobia let’s see if we can get things set up. I can start pulling out the equipment we need if everyone else wants to bring up the instruments from Sam’s house.”  
  
He couldn't resist it. Elliott felt a sudden urge to engage in mischief, and casually stepped up behind Lysander. “Are you certain you want to do that alone? There might be other things in there as well.” With a soft, quick touch, he brushed his fingers across the exposed skin between his choker and shirt collar. He expected Lysander to jump in surprise or something similar. What he didn't expect was for him to make a high-pitched shriek of terror. Immediately Lysander turned and slapped Elliott across the face with a full, open-handed swing, then realized what he'd done. Elliott's face stung from the strike, but strangely, it didn't hurt.  
  
_Well then! I deserved that._  
  
Lysander tried to apologize, but Elliott burst into hearty laughter, doubling over from the effort of it, and had to sit down on the piano bench before his legs gave out. He wasn't the only one who found the situation to be hilarious, and Sam managed to gasp out the (shared) opinion that he screamed like a girl. Lysander regarded them all with confusion before he folded his arms across his chest again. "Fine, I’m just going to pout a bit until you’re all done having fun at my expense.”  
  
Almost unable to get control of himself, Elliott wiped his eyes with one hand and offered the other to his friend. "Come here, I'm sorry."  
  
Lysander's posture got even more stiff at his gesture. “ _Pouting_ , I said.”  
  
"Oh, stop that," Elliott replied, standing up to pull him over to the bench, "my sincere apologies, but I simply could not resist." He hugged Lysander around the shoulders, finally no longer in the grasp of giggles.  
  
Still stiff for a moment, Lysander sighed and sniffed with injured dignity. “...Fine. Just don’t do it again. I’ll slap you twice as hard next time,” he warned, relaxing into Elliott's hug.  
  
Elliott agreed to this, and ruffled Lysander's hair as he kissed the top of his head, much as he and Charles would do when soothing the other after an altercation between themselves. He saw Lysander's expression change again and worried that he'd gone too far. "Is something the matter?"  
  
Clenching a fist, he stiffened again in Elliott's hug. “I… I was just thinking about Harmony.”  
  
“Your grandfather’s guitar?”  
  
Lysander nodded. Along with the rest of his belongings, it was still in storage, but he had no way to retrieve any of it at the moment, lacking any sort of transportation. Considering this, Alex asked how much he had, and it turned out to not be a lot. It was just enough boxes to fill a 10x10 unit, as he had sold all of his furniture. This was satisfactory, apparently, as Alex did some mental math and spatial planning and guessed that as long as he could find the items he needed to secure the load, his truck could take it in one trip. Lysander couldn't believe his luck, and before he could find the words he needed to thank him, Elliott asked if his assistance would be useful as well. Remarking that the truck might not be comfortable for the three of them, Sebastian chipped in his help as well, as it would be a good day for a ride, and Lysander could go with him.  
  
Awed at the sudden outpouring of aid, Lysander was at a loss for words. “You all… It’s not a bother?" He yelped in pain as Sebastian stalked over and tapped him on the top of the head with his knuckles, and Elliott wasn't quite sure how to respond to this.  
  
“Doofus, I told you to drop the meek act already. We’re your friends. If we say we’re going to do something then we’re going to do it." He directed the two of them to start unloading the storage room while he and the others would go back to Sam's to begin breaking down gear. Alex was going to meet them there, but first he was going to get his truck so they could move everything up the hill in one go. With a whoop of delight, Sam promised to cover everyone's bar tab that night and was the first out the door, jogging briskly back to his house. Abigail, Sebastian, and Alex followed, albeit at a more relaxed pace.  
  
Turning to Elliott, Lysander folded his arms across his chest for the third time and pulled a face at him. "Still pouting, you know."  
  
"I am sorry, really, that-"  
  
"I'm giving you grief," he grinned, cuffing Elliott on the shoulder, "I'm miffed but not bothered. Technically that was kinda funny. I didn't hurt you, did I?"  
  
Rubbing a hand to his cheek to be sure, he shook his head. "It only stung for a moment, and even then I was surprised more than hurt. I deserved that, anyway. Let us get to the storage room, then. If you aren't comfortable poking about in there just direct me and I'll retrieve what we need."  
  
"...Thanks for not, y'know..."  
  
"We all have our fears, and yours is not unjustified. Let us work around your misgivings and make progress."  
  
  
By the time they had brought out everything that Lysander knew they would need and had begun laying out cables and wires, the rest of the group returned with all of the equipment from Sam's room. All of this gear made a very haphazard mess that nearly everyone eyed with trepidation, but Lysander already had something in mind and guided everyone with efficiency. Inside of three hours everything had been set up, although nothing was connected to power or sound. They sprawled around on the floor and the furniture, feeling both fatigue and exhilaration at their success that day.  
  
Standing up rather stiffly, Lysander stretched his arms over his head and looked around. “We’re good to go. This is our new practice area. Congrats, Sam, you’re on the way to being a rock star."  
  
"You are the best person ever," Sam grinned as he threw himself at his friend, giggling as Lysander staggered and gasped for breath from the impact. Everyone was exhausted but still up for doing something else, and the unanimous decision was quickly made to go to the saloon for celebratory drinks. As Elliott and Lysander passed by, Alex got their attention, but paused, unsure of what he wanted to say. Elliott prompted him to continue, and after hesitating a moment, Alex sighed and simply laid out his thoughts.  
  
“So, yeah. When Lys and I had our fight? It was because of you. I… I said you were basically a loser who dresses funny and he socked me for it. So…sorry.”  
  
_This... I almost cannot believe this. We've never been able to see eye-to-eye on anything, and while we have not been hostile to each other, we were hardly cordial. But here he is, being the bigger person and admitting to an opinion that he now considers incorrect, and seeks to mend things. I have held an incorrect opinion of him as well, it seems, and I am grateful for the opportunity to be proven wrong and make a positive change._  
  
He couldn't help laughing a little at this, but for him, not at him. “To be fair, I do dress strangely compared to the rest of you, and I’ve not had much fortune in my work thus far, so your assertions were not completely incorrect. Despite that, I am not offended. Rather, I find myself respecting you more for your candor and courage of this admission. I look forward to a long-term friendship between us.”  
  
Alex appeared to be genuinely relieved by this, and offered a fist-bump to seal the friendship, which Elliott returned, though he was unused to the gesture. They caught up with the rest of the group, who didn't even realize that they'd fallen behind. Random chatter floated about as they walked, and then Alex took Sam up on his offer to cover his drinks, but cautioned him with a broad grin that it would likely eat at least two of his paychecks to do so. Lysander sassed this boast, and Alex called him out on his sass, doubting the musician's ability to out-drink him.  
  
“I outweigh you by, like, fifty pounds, bro.”  
  
Lysander shrugged and grinned sideways at him. “You do, but muscle mass isn’t the only thing that plays into alcohol tolerance; metabolism, body fat, genetic heritage, and what one has eaten that day can all drastically tip the scales in one direction or the other. And I can tell you right now, mate, that I can drink you under the table and still walk you home.”  
  
Going back and forth again, they made a bet to see who could win, and Elliott began to feel a bit concerned about this, but held his tongue while the two men shot mock taunts at each other. As they arrived at the saloon they decided that it was a simple challenge with a simple outcome: the loser had to do anything the winner wanted. Sam and Abigail appeared to be amused by this, and Sebastian and Haley were bored. Elliott, however, was even more worried, but still kept his silence, choosing instead to monitor and only intervene should something happen. He trailed Lysander and assisted with bringing back enough glasses for everyone, along with Haley, as the other man set three pitchers on the table.  
  
“I’ve grabbed the first round for everyone, but after this, you lot are on your own. But first, in celebration of what we’ve done so far, the hope of what will be, and the friends I have made and hope to know forever. To all of you.”  
  
It was a pleasant enough toast, and momentarily Elliott began to relax, until Lysander finished his glass in one go, turned it upside down on the table, and smirked at his "opponent." He sassed Alex again, who thought him funny until he took a drink from his own glass, then realized that Lysander had picked up a decent brew.  
  
“Damn, you don’t play around. I expected something lighter, not the good stuff.”  
  
“Getting worried already? Don’t worry, I promise to be a gentleman about our bet. You can take it as slowly as you need.”  
  
Sam was in no hurry and was enjoying his own glass as well as the show. “Trash talking on the first beer? You’re either super-confident or have an ace up your sleeve.”  
  
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Lysander leaned back in his chair. “How many times must I tell you? I never do anything partway.”  
  
Still slightly concerned, Elliott spoke up, if anything to test the proverbial waters. “Then I suppose it must fall to Sebastian and myself to be drink a bit more responsibly tonight as we are the only two strong enough to drag either of you two home." Sam gleefully warned Elliott to be careful, as he might find himself dragged all the way to bed if he did so, which earned a sniff and look of disdain from Lysander.  
  
“Tch. You wound me. Tonight you all are safe from my advances, as I have a very firm policy on not making love while drunk.” Another taunt of his inability to perform earned Sam an even sharper sniff and glare. “I have carefully cultivated a reputation for completely satisfying my partners, and when intoxicated it is all too easy to be sloppy and careless. A kiss, however? Well, I admit that I do find it pleasant to taste a drink from someone else’s lips."  
  
Elliott huffed a chuckle into his own drink at this audacious yet honest statement.  
  
_He certainly doesn't lack for confidence, and I've no reason to doubt his words. Further, though it might be a front to uphold his reputation, it IS a good idea to avoid physical pursuits while intoxicated, as that can lead to questions that have no good answers._  
  
The off-handed remark from Sam that his romantic ambitions were bizarre was met with indifference, as well as the admission that for the moment, romance of any sort was not something he planned to entertain, as he had other business to which he wanted to focus. Once more Elliott hid amusement behind his glass, as from what he'd seen so far, once Lysander _did_ attempt to initiate a relationship with someone, they'd be hard-pressed to resist his charm.  
  
Alex got up to get another couple of pitchers, and Lysander told him that he would cover this round as well. He punctuated his statement with a raised glass and the toast of " _kanpai_ ," which took Elliott a minute to remember as more or less the Japanese word for "cheers." Haley hadn't been paying attention and wondered when the topic had shifted to pie, and Lysander giggled at himself.  
  
“You know, cheers. Ah, right. I get a bit multilingual when I’m buzzed. I started nearly half a dozen languages but never got anywhere with them. Spent so many years in college, I wonder how many majors I’ve got all of the prereqs out of the way for. One of these days I’ll actually finish one of them.”  
  
Something about this statement intrigued Elliott but seemed a bit off, but he wasn't sure exactly what. Shrugging, he finished his glass and poured another, and it was Abigail's turn to bring the sass, asking how he just said he never did anything partway, yet never followed up on those courses.  
  
_Oh, so she answered the question I had not yet figured out. That's what didn't feel right about his statement. It didn't feel like a lie, or even a mistruth, just a statement that didn't seem to fit._  
  
Sighing again, Lysander rested his weight on his arms atop the table. "That was less a lack of follow-through and more of a lack of focus. I did well in all courses that I took, but I drifted for several years as I tried to figure out what it was I was good at and wanted to do." His expression changed again, a little thoughtful, and somewhat regretful, as he slowly dragged a thumbnail against the empty glass. "And while I am a brilliant musician I’m rubbish at most everything else. I tried a broad range of classes in the hope of discovering some other talent that I could use to support myself, but… _Muri da ze_ … Mmph, sorry. No matter what, it was useless, I couldn’t really do anything. Turns out I’m just a pretty face and voice.”  
  
Frowning a little, Elliott tried to parse the foreign phrase in the middle of Lysander's monologue.  
  
_Japanese again. My comprehension is terribly rough, but that's a phrase I've heard a few times. Ah, "it is useless." ...I see. You aren't multilingual for a lack of control or coherency, it's so that you can express yourself but still remain hidden. So even now you do not feel that you can completely open up, that you must still say something but wrap it in something obscuring._  
  
Haley was next to question him, wondering if he at least had hopes or dreams, or at the very least, something that he wanted to do. Staring at the tabletop through the bottom of his glass and a small haze of foam, he thought about it and shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “ _Träume nicht mehr haben._ No, I don’t, never really did. And it doesn’t matter. Ah, Alex, that’s the start of four? Well, _tvoe zdorov'e_.”  
  
_That's German, so what was... Ah, yes. "I don't have dreams anymore." No? Then what is it that drives you? And that last one... Ah, a Russian toast, "to your health," as I recall. He is a courteous drinker, I must admit._  
  
His curiosity getting the better of him, Elliott tugged at this particular thread, wondering where it might lead, and if it might inadvertently reveal something that Lysander didn't intend. “You really don’t have anything you want? Isn’t there anything at all you’re searching for?” he smiled as he refilled everyone's glass with what was left in the pitcher.  
  
“... _za lubov_ …”  
  
Elliott almost dropped the pitcher.  
  
_"...For love." You aren't searching. You're running. I was right, you were hurt by someone close to you, and now you fear closeness from anyone._  
  
Despite his attempt to not reveal his knowledge, he asked Lysander to repeat himself. Fortunately, the other man was lost in his own thoughts and didn't notice Elliott's observation and attempted to change the subject. Elliott didn't protest this and helped guide the flow of conversation to something more engaging.  
  
Eventually Alex and Lysander were on their seventh glass each, and taking the moral high ground, Lysander offered to call it a draw. Alex was initially insulted by this, but his friend made the compelling argument that they'd had their fun, and that anything more would go beyond that and leave them both ill in the morning. They had business to take care of the next day, and Alex agreed that it would be unpleasant to have to deal with the contents of a storage unit while hung over. This filled Elliott with relief, as he hasn't been certain how to step in, and he was certain that he would have had to had they gone another glass.  
  
The merriment was paused for a moment when Lewis stopped by their table to hand Lysander the documents pertaining to running and maintaining the community center. The offer to return the keys was refused, and Lewis wished him luck with their work and took a seat at the bar, greeting Gus with a broad smile. Elliott felt a tiny pang of, well, not quite guilt, but not quite sadness, for Lewis seated there alone, remembering how they'd often talked together the previous year. But then, he hadn't talked to many other townsfolk, and Lewis had often said that he hoped that Elliott would find friends of his own age with whom he could comfortably socialize, so in the end, it was alright.  
  
  
Lysander and Alex had called off their drinking game and used the next couple of hours to sober up, while the rest of them finished the pitchers themselves, though slowly. The bar tabs paid, they left as a group, pausing outside to enjoy the cool night air as they said their goodnights. Alex and Lysander were going to meet for sprints in the morning, and the musician demanded that Alex hydrate before he went to bed, as they'd both had quite a lot to drink, and he wanted to minimize the chance of a hangover. This was met with the demand in return that Lysander get a decent night of sleep so that they could have a solid run together.  
  
Sam, being a bit shorter and having less mass that the other men, was feeling the effects of the alcohol much more heavily, and Lysander, continuing to look out for others, offered to walk him and Haley home, as it was en route to the farm. He also offered to help carry him back, as it was quite apparent that Sam would end up walking twice the distance everyone else did because so much of it would be lateral travel. Sam almost knocked Lysander over as he haphazardly threw his arms around his friend's neck, but gave no more trouble when the taller man got a grip on his legs and stood up. Well, no trouble until he stood, anyway.  
  
“Kick ass, I’ve got an epic mount. Hi ho, Sunflower, away!”  
  
Lysander almost lost his balance and shot his friend a glare from over his own shoulder. “Bloody hell, I told you to be careful.”  
  
Amused by the spontaneous tomfoolery, Elliott excused himself from their company, as he had a much farther distance to go than the others. Well, save for Sebastian, he wasn't sure which of them were farther at that moment. As he strolled off, he smiled to himself as he heard Haley remark that she quite enjoyed watching him depart, and Abigail agreed. He felt a quick tingle of warmth when Lysander echoed their opinion, and was very glad that he was walking alone.  
  
_He is charming, clever, and an all-around delight to be with. I feel that I am becoming obsessed with him, and I must be careful in my future interactions lest I give the wrong impression. ...However... He searches for love but claims to have no interest in romantic pursuits. I wonder, is this love one-sided? Or does he instead seek forgiveness so that he is worthy of it? No, this is none of my business. If he brings it up I will ask, but otherwise, it is his matter to deal with and I shall not interfere._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	18. Home and Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Alex's and Elliott's musical tastes may reflect my own. Maybe. And yes, that DID happen; my friend and I were examining some satellite radio equipment at the store one day as we listened to what was playing, and saw that Tool, which we had listened to in high school, was now listed as "classical alternative." We're old. :(//

Elliott was somewhat annoyed at being unable to write again for the day, but pushed it from his mind while he showered. At last he finally had ideas! He would be too busy again this day to compile his ideas, but he now had them, that was what was important. He would be able to sit about and write at his own leisure tomorrow. For now, he had promised to help Lysander retrieve his belongings from storage, and given his own anxiety at the thought of not having all of his books and other possessions when he was moving, he empathized with the musician’s situation. He only spared himself a quick minute for a cup of coffee (which he had set to steep before he took his shower) as he messaged Lysander to let him know that he would be on his way over in a few minutes.  
  
He felt rather good that morning, and dressed to reflect both it and the season; beige trousers and waistcoat, with a dark blue shirt to contrast. His style could be called pretentious, but then again, one could describe him as stylish. For now, though, he wondered if it would be suitable for shifting boxes, and decided that it wasn’t likely that anything would be damaged, just dusted a bit, and that was easy enough to launder. Lost in these idle thoughts, he almost didn’t notice Alex trying to get his attention.  
  
“Elliott, bro! Need a lift?”  
  
Finally noticing the sound of an engine behind him, he turned to see Alex pull up in his pickup, and gratefully accepted the ride. “This greatly shortens my travel, thank you,” he remarked as he buckled his seat belt.  
  
“S’all good, it’d be stupid for me not to help you out. Even though… You know…”  
  
“I understand. We hardly had good first impressions of each other, and our later interactions lacked any sort of common ground. I am grateful to Lysander for a number of reasons, one of them being that it gave me another chance to get to know you.”  
  
Chuckling, Alex downshifted as the road turned from pavement to packed dirt. “Yeah, I kinda feel the same. He’s a cool guy, just offering out of nowhere to bust his ass for someone and asking nothing in return. I mean, he picked a fight with me, but instead of being an asshole about it, he apologized and took full responsibility for it, and volunteered to train running with me. That’s… I dunno. I respect that. Oh, hey, is that Sebastian?” he asked, seeing a motorcycle slowing down in front of him.  
  
“I believe that it is. It appears that we should be ready to go shortly, then.”  
  
Lysander was scratching a ginger tabby cat behind the ears as they pulled up, holding a coffee cup in one hand. “Looks like we’ve all got good timing this morning, all we need is Elliott-“ He blinked as the person in question got out of the truck and grinned at himself. “Oh, never mind.”  
  
Elliott explained that Alex had picked him up partway there, closing the door of the truck as Sebastian took off his helmet. Shrugging, Lysander set aside the coffee cup, did a double-take as he saw Elliott, and then burst out laughing, sprawling on his back on the porch. Confused, it was Elliott’s turn to be perplexed, until he saw that Lysander wore colors similar to his own; tan cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt, with an overshirt in a brighter, more sapphire-blue. Lysander wondered aloud about the coincidence, and Elliott commented that they seemed to share a similar color aesthetic.  
  
“Which raises the issue,” Elliott grinned, “that normally etiquette demands that one of us go home and change, and we’re already at your place.”  
  
“Nah, can’t be arsed, we’ll be twins today. Just let me- Oh come on, Xander, you’re not helping.” As Lysander had prepared to get up, the cat hopped up onto his chest, licked his nose, and tucked its legs under itself, purring loudly in its “breadloaf” pose.  
  
“Who is your new friend?” Elliott asked, noticing that the cat looked somehow familiar.  
  
“This is Xander, and he’s already being a pain in my ass.”  
  
“Xander?”  
  
 _That’s a strange… Half a moment, aren’t all ginger cats male?_  
  
“Ah, I see, clever,” he laughed as he caught the joke.  
  
 _And another half a moment, I have seen that cat before. Last year, when he was just a kitten with his mother and littermates, I passed them by when exploring this place for inspiration. I wonder how the others fare, but given that this one looks healthy and comfortable around humans, I suppose I shall assume that they are doing just fine as well.  
_  
Alex had just picked up on the subtlety himself and offered to move him for Lysander, who shot him a look of concern. “Noooooo, I’d rather you didn’t.” It wasn’t that he was worried that Alex would hurt him, or vice versa, it was his own health that was in question, as cats that didn’t want to be moved very rarely did so without protesting in a rather painful manner. Instead, Lysander hugged the cat, ruffling his fur and ears and making silly talk at him, which offended the feline enough to get him to move on his own.  
  
“Well, we no longer match,” Lysander commented, looking down at his shirt, “since I’m now covered in cat fur. Good thing this doesn’t show up much on a tan shirt.” He excused himself to get up to put his empty cup in the sink and retrieve a helmet so he could ride with Sebastian, who was lazily smoking one of the flavored cigarettes. Returning with the safety item in hand, Lysander thanked them again for their help, especially on such short notice. They all informed him, although joking, that they had their own ulterior motives about getting out of town, which actually made Lysander feel better about the whole thing. He took Alex’s phone to put in the directions to the storage place in the city, then put on his helmet as Sebastian gave him a quick safety run-down. Alex and Elliott got back into the truck and headed for the main road, pausing a moment to ensure that Sebastian was following. They turned onto the road and followed the phone’s GPS instructions to their destination.  
  
Their travel was quiet at first until Elliott remembered something that he wanted to ask. “That’s right, you said that he is helping you with your running? As I recall you desire a career as an athlete.”  
  
“Yeah. I was captain of the gridball team back in high school, but haven’t done anything since then. I’ve been doing some weight training, but my cardio isn’t very good. I mean, I probably could have done it on my own like I do with the weights, but never really had the motivation. I was kinda in a slump for a while, then he came along and kicked me in the ass. Okay,” he laughed, “knocked me on my ass, but he picked me up right after and just…” He gave Elliott a bit of a dark look at first as the other man laughed, but then realized that it was agreement with his statement.  
  
“I understand completely. You saw my spiraling decline over the last year, and then, all of a sudden, he appeared and reached out to all of us. He was hurting- _still_ is hurting-, and yet of his own accord tried to make things better for us all. For the first time in years I have the tools that I need to create my novel, and all it took was just a few conversations and suggestions.”  
  
Alex was silent for a moment as he thought about this and offered a small, friendly smile. “I hope you get published, bro, that’s a hell of a dream. I don’t even like reading much, so writing something? That’s gotta be pretty hard.”  
  
Returning the smile, Elliott rested his elbow on the door frame and his chin on his fist. “And while I am hardly the athletic sort, I wish you well in your own pursuits. I am in decent shape for the little I do exercise, so I respect the time and energy that you devote to your own dream. I think that, in return, we need to do what we must so that Lysander can achieve his desired success as well.”  
  
“Any idea what that is?” Alex asked, looking perplexed, “he just said something cryptic about wanting to support others instead when I asked him about what he wanted.”  
  
“I know little more than you, I’m afraid. Someone hurt him recently, and from what I am able to gather, it was someone for whom he cared greatly. However, I am loath to pry into private business, and he seems unlikely to open up about it any time soon. I want to respect his privacy, but at the same time it hurts to see him suffer when he thinks that we aren’t looking.”  
  
Once again, Alex was silent, and Elliott was impressed with his compassion. “If you figure something out, let me know. I dunno what it is about him, but I’ve just gotta help him out like he’s doing for us, y’know? Karma, or whatever. I dunno.”  
  
“Likewise, I lack the words, but I share the sentiment.”  
  
The trip to the storage facility didn’t take very long, and once Lysander had let them in and guided them to his unit, the process of emptying and loading all of the boxes was also a swift affair. He had no furniture of any sort, just boxes, and according to Lysander, most of them were books. Elliott suddenly wanted to inspect them, wondering what he had in his collection, if they shared similar interests, and if there were any that he’d wanted to read but not had the opportunity. Like his earlier thoughts that morning, he shoved these to the side as well. There was work to be done, and he could explore Lysander’s collection once he’d had the time to properly do inventory and put them away.  
  
As Alex secured the load with tarps and tie-downs, Lysander walked out with the last item, which everyone else had left for him; a rather battered guitar case, which he held onto as though he were afraid to let it go. He handed it to Elliott by the strap, as none of them wanted to risk it on the back of the motorcyle or truck, and almost didn’t let go when Elliott carefully took hold of it.  
  
“Sorry,” he apologized, looking a little embarrassed, “just had a moment… Harmony and Resonance are probably the only two things I have that actually mean something to me. Everything else in that unit and house… They’re just possessions. Those two, though, they’re, well…part of me, I guess.” Elliott’s smile seemed to reassure him, and he returned it, looking a little less hesitant about parting with the precious item. Securing it in the cab between himself and Alex (also with one of the seat belts, just to be sure), Elliott buckled his own belt as Lysander went to close out his account at the front office, after which he donned his helment once more and mounted up behind Sebastian.  
  
Travelling back, Alex and Elliott went through the radio stations, trying to find something upon which they could both agree. It wasn’t that they _disagreed_ on musical choices so much as they had a surprising amount they liked in common, as well as that which they didn’t like. Alex wasn’t much for classical, where Elliott was terribly picky about pop, but they agreed that it was difficult to go wrong with classic rock music. They also agreed that alternative had some decent bands, although Elliott pointed out (and Alex agreed with a laugh) that some bands being labeled as “classical alternative” made him feel somewhat old.  
  
It took much less time to unload the truck into Lysander’s home than it had taken to put it in the truck, and Lysander directed them to stack them in the living room, where he’d go through them later when he had the energy. Elliott put Harmony on the kitchen table, as that seemed to be the safest place for it at the moment. There was still quite a bit of time before practice, which Alex was keen to attend, as he was interested in learing to run the soundboard under Lysander’s tutelage.  
  
“Well, this was an unexpected ‘arms day,’” he grinned as he tossed the tie-downs into the back of his truck, “and I’ve gotta take care of one or two things before we get started at the community center. I’ll see you all there later."  
  
Lysander hugged him, confusing the other man, who returned it as if he were worried that he’d break his friend. “Thanks again, Alex, you have NO idea how much I owe you for this and yesterday’s equipment run.”  
  
“No worries, bro, you running with me makes up for it. See you in a bit.”  
  
“Yeah, see you.” He watched Alex drive off, then joined Elliott and Sebastian in the kitchen, who were having a look around his home. “Hey, want a coffee while we wait to hear from Abby and Sam? Might as well relax here.” They agreed to this, and three cups were made and poured. They took seats at the table, and both Elliott and Sebastian noticed that Lysander was very carefully looking at them and not Harmony. Finally, the writer sighed and set down his cup, gesturing toward the instrument. “Go on, we both know you need to.”  
  
Lysander stammered something out, and Sebastian nudged him, reclining comfortably. “Like a bandage, just rip it off. You clearly want to open that case. Get it out of your system.”  
  
Clenching his fists on his thighs, Lysander shifted his gaze away from the both of them. “…I just don’t want to…in front of…”  
  
“I said it yesterday and it appears that I must say it again today,” Elliott soothed, “we’re your friends.”  
  
Biting his lip, Lysander considered this and nodded, shifting in his chair to open the latches on the case. Where Resonance was beautiful black lacquer, Harmony was a rich maple-gold with a dark rosewood neck. As Lysander shifted the instrument to slip the strap over his head, Elliott saw the word “Harmony” written in gold pen, the same way it had been on Resonance. Elliott held his cup in both hands, watching quietly as Lysander removed the pick from the frets, the way he stored the one for Resonance. He shared Lysander’s look at how badly it was out of tune, but the musician found his inner peace as he hummed the correct note for each string and quickly matched the sound. Then he hesitated again, the pick hovering over the strings, lost inside of his own mind again. Without thinking about it, Elliott reached for his hand, and that small bit of support was exactly what Lysander needed. Inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly, Lysander found the mental strength he needed and began to play.  
  
This song… It was the same one that he had played on Resonance, but the sound was different. Harmony sang in a different voice, and Elliott could hear the years and memories in its tone. He watched Lysander’s face and saw both the joy and pain, and how they fought within him for dominance. Joy won out, but at a cost, and Elliott saw the ache that the memories had left behind. Biting his lip again as he blinked back tears, Lysander put Harmony back on the table.  
  
“…Sorry, it still hurts. That sound, it’s…”  
  
He stood up to leave the room, but Elliott intervened, gently taking his hand again. “It will for a while, but don’t run from it, that will only make it worse.”  
  
He saw that Lysander had been holding the pick so hard it had made an impression on his palm as he dropped it on the table. Wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist, he hid his face in Elliott’s shoulder, looking both embarrassed at the intimate act but also grateful for someone who could offer it. “I just…need a hug for a moment, sorry.”  
  
A little surprised, but pleased, Elliott held him close, providing the mental and physical support that his friend needed. “Don’t be, take the time you need.”  
  
Sebastian knew what Lysander was thinking and feeling, and pointed out that they both knew he was hurting, from both his grandfather and the reason that he’d come out to his family home. They understood his situation and that it was difficult to face, but he would need to do so eventually. He wasn’t alone. Sebastian fell silent as he finished his coffee, having said his piece, letting Lysander have the space that he needed. It wasn’t very long, however, and shortly his hug grew a bit stronger in thanks as he stepped back and sighed, looking much better.  
  
“Sorry… Thanks. I needed that.” The sunny smile began to return as a thought occurred to him. “Heh, that’s one of the reasons why I prefer dating guys, we’re taller so we give better hugs.” As he said it he realized what he had implied and turned a bit red, embarrassed once more, but this time for his friend. “Ah, not that we’re dating, just that…just saying…”  
  
 _I shall treasure your friendship always. Your energy and honesty have been a welcome light in my life, and I would protect that with all of my power. Let me find a way to repay you for all that you have done._  
  
He ruffled Lysander’s hair playfully and reassured him again, understanding the context, and Sebastian directed him to go to Elliott for affection, as it “wasn’t his thing,” and they were “taller than I am anyway.”  
  
Lysander had found his mischief again and agreed, punching him in the shoulder. “That works for me, you’re not cuddly enough. You’re too emo and prickly.” He laughed at Sebastian’s indignant reply and picked up his coffee cup, draining it in one gulp before leading the way to the door. They had stuff to do at the community center before everyone else arrived!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	19. Assembling the Ensemble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Sorry that the quality on these last two chapters is a bit lacking. It's been a VERY long Reserve weekend (four days, whoooo), and I was busy until late at night most evenings. Plus, the barracks wifi crapped out, so I had to go out and about to upload tonight's work. Gah! I suffer for my art... XD//

They weren’t alone at the community center for long before they were joined by everyone else. Lysander had found tape with which they could secure the cables to the floor once they had been hooked up to something, and was already tearing off small strips to momentarily secure them as they figured out what needed to go where. Chatting idly as they moved, connected, and adjusted things, there were several small conversations going on, until Sam lamented that they still weren’t sure what sort of genre they’d be, and Lysander offered a few, save for one.  
  
“And as much as it would be hilarious to try to do an idol group since those are fairly popular right now, we’re all playing instruments, so we won’t be able to dance, and I’m sure that Sebastian isn’t interested in learning.”  
  
Sam perked up at this, asking him if he knew how to dance, and Lysander affirmed it, remarking that he’d done a lot of theater and that his mother is a dance instructor. With a small chuckle of satisfaction, Elliott took the roll of tape from Lysander and handed it to Alex, who needed it for what he was working on.  
  
_Ha! I knew it, he moves with too much elegance and grace to not have some form of training. He had mentioned his history with theater and music. His father a musician and his mother a dancer. How delightfully eclectic, I must ask him further about this, I’ve no confidence for dance myself, but at the same time I respect the art._  
  
Naturally, Sam’s next question went risqué, asking if she knew how to pole dance, and everyone did their best to ignore him. Lysander’s look of “really?” matched his tone. “Just for me, take that question, and replace my mother with yours.” This suggestion produced a few funny looks from the rest of the group, but its effect on Sam was priceless, as his sunny grin slowly faded and was replaced with a mask of horror. His wail of despair was even more amusing, as he held his head in his hands.  
  
“I can’t un-see it! You have ruined that forever for me!”  
  
Lysander shrugged with indifference, but anyone looking closely saw the quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips. “You started it, I finished it.” When Sam grumbled that he just thought the idea of him knowing how to do that would be funny, Lysander shrugged again. “I never said I didn’t.”  
  
_…What?...  
_  
Elliott paused and mentally re-played the reply as Sam gave his friend a confused look. “What. Did you date a stripper or something?”  
  
Shaking his head, Lysander retrieved the roll of tape again and tore off a few more strips of varying sizes. “No, just a biology undergrad. Though I helped her out with more... _anatomical_ studies.” He giggled to himself at the memory and handed the roll of tape to Sebastian. “But anyway, she took a class because it’s actually really good cardio and strength training, and it gave her _amazing_ abs.” Pausing again, he tapped a finger to his chin as he thought of something. “Funny thing is that the hardest part of learning was just finding heels in my size.”  
  
_He… Light help me, I am trying so very hard not to be lecherous, and yet…_  
  
Elliott wasn’t the only one who was now completely drawn in by the conversation, and also wasn’t the only one listening with their mouth half-open, wondering if they really were hearing what was being said.  
  
It took Sam a moment to find the words he wanted. “…You have heels,” he finally said, for a lack of anything else to say. Lysander confirmed this off-handedly as he taped down cables, commenting that they were a cute pair in beige with chunky heels, that would likely match Haley’s aesthetic. The grin returned as Sam came to grips with the situation and asked if he still wore them. Initially Lysander replied in the negative, before he thought about it again and corrected himself.  
  
“Wait, there was that one time when I paired them with those low-rise jeans and the t-back thong.” He giggled again at this memory and smirked to himself. “I totally ended up winning _that_ bet.”  
  
Sam was of the opinion that one would do that for a _losing_ bet, but his request to know more was rebuffed with the statement that this particular story had a three-drink minimum, and it was up to someone else to pay for it. Then Abigail’s hope that photos existed as proof were met with yet another moment of thoughtfulness.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that I do.” Muttering aloud to himself as he pulled out his phone, he scrolled through his photos, trying to remember the timeframe, and smiled as he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go, this one and two more.” He passed the phone to Abigail, and both she and Haley gawked at it. They were impressed, but Haley almost seemed to be insulted that he looked almost as good as a woman as she did, although Abigail did compliment his bottom in those jeans, which earned the reply that he’d heard that before, but it also had a minimum drink requirement for which he was also not going to pay. Alex was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable with the conversation, just confused, and remarked that he couldn’t not listen.  
  
Abigail thrust the phone in his face, looking quite serious. “Well, take a look at this and tell me that you wouldn’t tap that.” Alex protested loudly as he took the phone (so he could see it properly), and did a proper double-take as his jaw hung open. He agreed that Lysander made a “pretty cute chick,” but had no idea how he’d pulled off the effect.  
  
Apparently he’d done quite a bit of theater, as he described the use of cosmetics to change the colors, contours, and shape of one’s face with subtlety, and in particular had used blush, bronzer, and a bit of highlighter. He grimaced a little as he remembered having a hard time finding red lipstick that wouldn’t clash with his hair, and had eventually gone with a neutral color, which matched the brown mascara and eyeliner, as black was too harsh with his skin tone and color of hair and eyes. Grabbing the phone from Alex, Sam matched his amazed expression, and Elliott almost felt embarrassed when he involuntarily whistled with impressed approval.  
  
Nobody called him out on it, though, as Sam piped up with a comment that nobody was expecting. “Dude, no wonder I kissed you last night, you’re _hot_.” This complete absurdity caused Elliott to laugh heartily (although he did feel a small twinge of jealousy that confused him), but he was the only one, as Alex, Haley, and Abigail all gave the spiky-haired man the same look of confusion. Sebastian seemed amused, rolling his eyes, and Lysander put his face in his hand, shaking his head.  
  
“You what?” asked Haley, “how long were you two out there after I left?” Sebastian suggested that everyone should just ignore him, as he couldn’t be serious, even though it was funny to see him snark on Lysander like that. A little unsure of how to explain it, Lysander said that no, Sam really had kissed him, but he hadn’t initiated or encouraged it. It was Sam’s turn to shrug, affirming this, and remarking that it had been interesting, but he wasn’t likely to do it again. Unsure as to whether he wanted to know or not, Sebastian asked him why he’d done it in the first place, which produced another shrug.  
  
“I just wanted to know what it was like.”  
  
Elliott lost track of the banter for a moment as he took both the phone and a moment to study the photo in better detail; Lysander’s hair was loose over his shoulders, the same length as it was currently, going almost to the middle of his back, but he’d not yet had his bangs cut. He did, however, have it tucked back neatly behind his left ear with a couple of simple gold-colored clips. There was a rather impressive (and alluring) amount of exposed midriff between a black crop-top shirt and the jeans that barely went over his hips, fitting snugly against a _very_ nice figure that was somewhat hidden under the much looser clothes he now wore. What _did_ go over his hips, though, were the strings of the thong, drawing no small amount of attention to that part of his body, but somehow without looking trashy or tacky. He also looked surprisingly comfortable in those heels, which shifted his stance enough to give him a very effeminate posture that looked remarkably natural. Elliott felt a small flutter of something in his stomach at that smile; still soft and warm, still touching his eyes and bringing light to their hazel color, and still completely recognizable as “him.”  
  
Sam was reeling from a rather impressive turn-around of a clever innuendo by Lysander as Elliott returned the phone back to its owner. “For what it’s worth, you made that look both sexy and classy," Elliott commented, "no mean feat there.” Lysander seemed to be flattered by this, and hastily changed the subject, noticing that everything was ready to go. They all went to their equipment or instruments, and Lysander began to give directions and suggestions, then caught himself, chuckling in embarrassment. He apologized for taking over, as it was Sam’s band in the first place, but he wasn’t bothered.  
  
“S’okay,” Sam replied, picking up the electric guitar, “you’ve worked with a real band and done stuff live before, so you take lead on it for now.”  
  
Encouraged by his friend’s confidence and permission, he suggested the song that they’d first practiced together in Sam’s room, and Elliott pulled the sheet music for it out of a folder that had been provided to him a few days prior. He’d had a little time to look over it but not practice, but strangely felt confident enough to sight-read it. It wasn’t as though he’d not heard it before, and he knew the lyrics as well, so it was just a matter of doing it himself. Sebastian led off with the intro, and he was promptly joined by everyone as their part demanded. They sounded quite good! Lysander hadn’t been working with them long, this was the first time that Elliott had performed with others, and Alex had never before run a sound board. Despite this, they already had synergy with each other, and Elliott heard Sebastian join in on vocals, something that didn’t happen often, judging from the look of surprised delight on Sam’s face.  
  
They had sounded excellent together, and Sam almost couldn’t contain his enthusiasm. Sebastian and Abigail were likewise impressed, and Lysander’s grin was warm and energetic. This was going to work! Elliott turned around on the piano bench to observe the rest of the group as he thought to himself. He’d never had the confidence for public performance of any sort, but this had been fun, and he could see himself be comfortable performing for others in the company of his friends like this.  
Sebastian remarked that they’d sounded okay as the three of them in Sam’s room, but something about this location just inspired true musicianship for them, especially with the addition of Lysander. “Maybe we just needed a change of venue to make it ‘real’ for us. Some place we could really cut loose and open up without disturbing anyone.”  
  
Agreeing, Elliott voiced the opinion that he’d not worked with others before, but despite his novice level of skill, he had performed with competence in their presence. Sam flashed him a sunny smile and told him that he was wrong, he had sounded _great_ , and that he was not only going to keep him on permanently instead of just for the one song, he wanted to do more vocal pieces with him as well. This blunt honesty gave Elliott a rush of satisfaction; he’d never been complimented like that before (or in such a manner), and he knew that Sam meant every word. Abigail also liked what she’d heard, but echoed the earlier comment that they still didn’t know what they were going to sound like.  
  
The grin nearly split Sam’s face in two. “It’s gonna sound like _this_.” Elliott was impressed by the sudden improv of Lysander’s song in a rock anthem style, but it was nothing next to the sheer amazement that Lysander wore. Having already learned his friend’s song, Elliott joined Sam, supporting the wild, energetic guitar with stately chords that were a stylistic counterpoint. It was infectious, pulling in Sebastian next, then Abigail. Lysander had set down the bass to pick up Resonance, entering the song as the powerful intro finished, striding into a musical declaration.  
  
They’d only heard the song yesterday, and despite that knew just what to do, just how to harmonize with and accentuate each other, passing the melody and backup to each other as though they’d done it for years. Elliott couldn’t see the others from the way the piano was angled, but he could hear and feel the energy that filled the room.  
  
_I understand now, the bond that ties together performers. That love of a medium and the stage, regardless of its subject matter. All of them are artists, and I find myself awed not only by their skill and deep love for what they do, but the selfless trust and respect that they have shown in giving me a chance. I must do my best, and work as hard as I can to surpass what I am now and ascend to something greater. I am not yet at their level, but I will be. …Yes, I can be so much more, because I have people who believe in me. Lysander, you do not yet know what it is that you have done, not just for me, but for all of us. Some day I will repay every one of you, though I may always be in your debt._  
  
The song ended, with triumph and energy. Elliott could still feel the vibration of the lingering sound as they looked at each other, feeling flushed with excitement and the sudden group harmony. Sam looked both smug and excited, still wearing that grin. “ _That’s_ what we sound like.”  
  
Nobody replied for a moment, until Lysander let out a breath that he didn’t recall holding, and returned Sam’s smile with his own soft one. “Yeah, it is. That sounded… You all already know my song. I… Thank you.”  
  
He put Resonance on its stand as Sam set aside his own guitar and hugged him around the waist. “Dude, you are the coolest big brother ever. We’re gonna be awesome, and you made it happen.”  
  
Setting aside the headphones, Alex stepped away from the soundboard and held a shoulder as he rotated it, feeling a little stiff. This had been good practice, but he was feeling a bit tired already, and everyone else could also feel the adrenaline wearing off. Sam proposed that they pop off to the saloon again for a quick bite and a couple of drinks, and Sebastian questioned whether or not it was a good idea to make a habit of this. They all were rather hungry and tired, it was true, but they also agreed that Sam had a point.  
  
“As long as we don’t get crazy we’ll be okay,” Lysander remarked, “and besides, it is a bit late. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll behave ourselves in the future, but right now I think we can all afford to splurge one more night.”  
  
“Yeah, makes sense,” Sebastian replied, putting his hands in his pockets as he considered it, “I mean, mom’s cooking, so it’s not like it’s a problem for me, but I’m still having a good time and don’t really feel like going home just yet.”  
  
Abigail put down her drumsticks and stood, stretching with satisfaction. “Same. I’ll message mom and dad so they know not to expect me tonight. I’ll make it up to them by cooking tomorrow.” This seemed to tip the scales for everyone else in favor of one more group night out, and they took a few minutes to power down what shouldn’t be left on, secured a few items, and turned out the lights, after which Lysander locked the door and headed south toward the saloon with the rest of his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	20. Dance Dance Revolution SDV Mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //So another writer and I were talking the other day about what kind of drunks most of the SDV characters are. We seemed to have pretty similar opinions. Sam=cuddly, Sebastian=mellow, Haley=giggly, Alex="I Love You Bro," Abigail=naked, Elliott=chatty, and Penny doesn't have a drunk state because she's a sweet cinnamon roll that doesn't touch alcohol. What are your intoxication headcanons? :)
> 
> Speaking of headcanons, it is my personal canon that for fragrance preferences Elliott wears Aqua di Gio, and Lysander alternates between Sunflowers By Elizabeth Arden and Dior Addict 2. I own all of these and they are LOVELY.//

Unlike the previous night, there was no boasting or taunting, only the heady sense of excitement, though it was mostly from Lysander and Sam. Elliott wasn't surprised, as Lysander was the most accomplished musician present (as far as he knew, anyway), and it was Sam's project in the first place, so such an initial success had to be quite satisfying. Not being a musician, Haley didn't seem to be as energetic as the others, but she had still enjoyed the music, and had taken a fair number of photos, which she seemed keen to review as soon as possible.  
  
Same as the previous night, they found one of the largest tables in order to accommodate everyone, and grabbed a couple of pitchers of beer to go around. This time there was far more in the way of food, as though they weren't famished, none of them had eaten that much today, and it had been a strangely strenuous task getting everything set up. Finally slowing down after devouring his fourth slice of pizza (combo, which he and Alex shared and Lysander refused to touch, picking up pepperoni for himself and Sebastian), Sam leaned back in his chair and sighed happily, sipping his beer.  
  
"I keep saying it, but this is gonna be totally awesome. We just...damn, dude, that sound we had. I still feel all tingly and stuff. It's weird to think that it's really happening now, and it's thanks to you," he grinned nudging Lysander, who was slowly working on his third slice, "I gotta find a way to thank you one of these days."  
  
Shrugging, Lysander refilled his glass and took a drink. "You can do that after we get our first gig. Until then, we're just still a bunch of itinerant musicians messing around. I think we'll be okay, though, once we get some more stuff written and really nail down our sound and image we'll deal with that."  
  
"Makes sense. Still, gonna totally be optimistic about this, no reason not to, y'know?" He paused to glance over at the jukebox when the song playing on it changed and grinned wider. "And I totally call BS, dude, you said that you can dance, and you've definitely got some moves, but I'll believe it when I see it."  
  
Amused at being so directly called out, Lysander wiped his hands on a paper towel. "Fine then. Pick the music."  
  
"Seriously? You're gonna do it?" Sam asked, his mouth wide and showing all of his teeth.  
  
"You really think I'll be too shy to do it? Oh Sam, you're precious," Lysander giggled, patting him on the head, "soon you'll learn that I'm damn near impossible to embarrass. Go on, pick something and I'll show you how it's done, that way you can't accuse me of cheating by doing the one thing I know."  
  
"Oh wow, you are _on_. Be right back, then."  
  
Sam pushed back his chair and got up in one fast, fluid motion, trotting over to the jukebox and prodding the display. It was completely digital, no mechanical parts, so it had a very impressive library of music, which was almost wasted on the small town and its limited musical taste. Lysander got up, strode over to the dance floor, shifted his weight to one leg, and put a fist on his hip as he flashed Sam a grin of his own. This began to generate interest and attention, not just from their table, but the rest of the patrons, as it was Friday and therefore one of the busier nights. Then Sam cackled and poked a button, choosing the song, which made a number of people look up in surprise.  
  
Laughing heartily, Lysander's grin got cheekier as he shifted his weight to his other leg. "Really? We're doing it like this? Fine, then I _really_ get to show you how it's done!"  
  
The song that Sam had chosen was a newer, popular tune, due in no small part to the _very_ provocative dance that the vocalist performed in the music video. Even if people didn't like the artist, it was difficult to have not heard of it or seen the video due to simple pop culture osmosis, through internet memes, social media, and other avenues of digital interaction. Even Elliott, not fond of this sort of music, was aware of it, and his jaw dropped as he realized not only what Sam had selected, but that apparently Lysander knew it, and was prepared to dance it _in the middle of the crowded saloon!_  
  
Oh, this was going to be a disaster, they were going to be reprimanded or asked to leave after this. People danced to the music on the jukebox all the time, but nothing _this_ indecent. The other members of Sam's group looked amongst themselves as they saw the entire room's attention focus on Lysander, who settled into the starting pose, waiting for his cue. Sam flopped into his chair, snickering to himself. The intro finished, and Lysander flowed into the dance.  
  
All other activity in the room stopped.  
  
Where the original video was sexually charged and very nearly erotic, the way in which Lysander moved was elegant, somehow managing to look skillful and artistic. He sang along as he danced, completely immersing himself in his performance, putting on a show to entertain and inspire. Elliott continued to watch, absolutely captivated, and he wasn't the only one.  
  
 _He has always moved with such grace, but this transcends that. He translates sound into motion, and I cannot look away. What should have been something that would be uncomfortable to view has been turned into something I need to watch. Guitarist, vocalist, dancer... We have been gifted with a muse to guide and inspire us, and I do not know if we are worthy_  
  
Sebastian whistled quietly to himself and glanced over at Elliott. "He is pretty damn good, isn't he?" he asked Elliott, who suddenly realized that he'd been staring, but Sebastian didn't think anything strange of it. "I don't do dance, or anything athletic, for that matter, but I can respect the hell out of his skill. That's not an easy one to do, and he's making it look _classy_."  
  
Alex agreed, holding his glass in both hands as he watched with professional interest. "No wonder he's able to keep up with me on the run, that's gotta take crazy endurance to do."  
  
Elliott half-expected Haley and Abigail to be watching with a different sort of interest than the rest of them, but like the others, they were much more invested in what he was doing, rather than how. Even Sam watched with an impressed look on his face, not the least bit bothered that his prank had been turned around like that. Refilling his drink, Elliott sipped at it and put his chin in his hand as he continued to watch Lysander's routine.  
  
When it was over, he was met with applause, and took a small, simple bow of thanks for the appreciation. Emily darted around from behind the bar and bounced on her toes. "Oh, tell me you can do other stuff, too!"  
  
"I can and will. Name it," he smiled, and laughed softly as Emily went to the jukebox, pulled up a lively swing tune, and returned to the dance floor, taking his hand. Robin and Demetrius were one of the few couples that routinely danced, and Lysander and Emily found themselves joined by the older couple, and Sebastian barely stifled a groan (but still rolled his eyes) at his parents being embarrassing like that, and Haley did the same for Emily. Elliott and the others watched their friends again, vicariously enjoying the fun that they were having on the dance floor. Despite being a writer and not a dancer himself, Elliott observed their moves and compared them against his own mental notes, as he had learned some forms of dance when growing up, but had very little practice at it. Perhaps it would be worth his while to learn...  
  
When this song was over Sam leaped up again and queued up a couple more songs and ran over to Lysander, who was just freed from a hug of thanks from Emily before she returned to her bartending duties. "Dude, you have _got_ to show me your moves. That was totally cool!" Laughing again, he agreed, and they were immediately joined by Abigail, who had just chugged the last of her own beer.  
  
"We'll start simple," he said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, "both of you face me and mirror what I do. Yeah, I'll be doing it 'backwards' for your benefit so you won't have to worry about trying to 'translate' it for yourselves, okay? I'll do something, then you two do it right after. Don't worry about going fast at first, just get used to the footwork and rhythm of it, then we'll pick up the pace to match the music."  
  
He drilled them on a few basic moves, making them do one a couple of times until he was satisfied that they had the gist of it before going on to the next one. After they'd picked up a few different steps he showed them how to string them together. They were rather quick learners, and even Elliott had an idea of what to do just from watching. A quick glance at Sebastian told him that he wasn't the only one learning from a distance, and Elliott wondered if the other two really were that quick on the uptake, or if Lysander was just that good an instructor.  
  
By the time the first song had ended he seemed to be satisfied that his protégés knew enough to try it in time with music. "Right, you two know how to do it, I'll call out the moves for you, and you make them happen. I'll throw in some new stuff, just to see how fast you catch on." They _had_ learned fast, and Lysander _was_ that good an instructor, as Abigail and Sam stood side-by-side, facing Lysander, easily keeping up with his commands and looking very confident with their abilities. "Great! You two are naturals. C'mon, use those hips, girlfriend! You too, other girlfriend!" He laughed again, encouraging them while being powered by their energy.  
  
When this song was over he waved them off, smiling happily. "I'd love to do this all night, but I still need something more to eat. That was still brilliant, though, I haven't had this much fun in ages." He sat back down next to Elliott, giving him that smile as well that sent a tingle of warmth through the writer, who returned it without thinking. "You seemed to get a kick out of that. Want a go next time?" he asked, only partially serious.  
  
"Not in public, no," Elliott replied, refilling his glass again, "but perhaps you could arrange private lessons. I lack your courage for public performance at this time, but respect your talent. And your skill, by the light! You've done this long, have you not? Only one who dedicates themselves so wholly to the arts can move as you do, with beauty and strength."  
  
Lysander was quite flattered by this, but there was something a little off about Elliott's cadence of speech and particular word choices, and he tapped him on the arm. "Thanks, but... Here, do me a favor, follow the tip of my finger with just your eyes." Confused but amused, Elliott complied, and Lysander sighed, though he still smiled. "You're proper buzzed, mate, how much have you drunk tonight?"  
  
Glancing into his glass, Elliott did some mental math and came up with a variable that could not be successfully substituted into a constant. "Um, yes."  
  
"...Have you had anything to eat?"  
  
"Um, no."  
  
Laughing brightly, Lysander got up again. "I'm going to snag you something from the bar, then, since pizza doesn't seem to be your thing. It's not going to help you much later tonight since it would have cushioned what you were going to drink, but it's better than nothing. Also, I'm walking you home tonight, just in case."  
  
"That is a welcome offer but unnecessary," Elliott smiled, draining his glass (for the last time), and sat up a little straighter out of surprise when Lysander leveled a dangerous hazel glare at him.  
  
"I'm bloody well walking you home to make sure you get there safely and don't have a raging hangover, and I'll have no arguments about it. Be right back."  
  
The rest of the table was also caught aback by this, and as usual, Sam piped up with his usual cheek. "I hope you're a better kisser than I am, he didn't seem too impressed last night."  
  
  
Once everyone had finished their food and drink they departed, filtering out one by one. Sam and Sebastian were the only ones left when Elliott and Lysander were leaving, and waved as they got up to leave. The cool night air was welcome and refreshing, and Elliott breathed deeply of it as he matched Lysander's stride, albeit somewhat unsteadily.  
  
"Your offer truly is welcome," he again remarked, "but I will be just fine, I do not want you to put yourself out by going so far. You do live quite a way away from my home."  
  
"And I said that I'm bloody well walking you home, mate," rebuffed the copper-haired man, giving him a sidelong look, "because I'm your friend and I care. And also because I care I'll take you up on that offer for private lessons at some point. Not many people want to learn, so I'm happy to instruct anyone who's interested."  
  
"Your altruism is appreciated," Elliott chuckled, "and to be taught by one so skilled and confident would be delightful. I feel as though there is nothing that you cannot do when you are sufficiently motivated."  
  
It was Lysander's turn to chuckle as he shook his head. "That's nice of you, but I'm not _that_ good. I mean, I'm not bad, but it's not like I'm totally brilliant at it, y'know?"  
  
Suddenly annoyed, Elliott stopped short, grabbed Lysander's arm, and tugged sharply. He was pulled off-balance and stumbled as he regained his footing, collapsing into Elliott and wrapping his arms around his neck for stability.  
  
"What-"  
  
Elliott put an arm around his waist and held him close, gripping him firmly by the chin with his other hand. "I have had enough of you speaking ill of your abilities, and you will not do so ever again in my presence," he growled, "it is one thing to be modest about one's self, but you are talented in many ways and I will not allow you to state anything about yourself that is any less than how brilliant you truly are. Have I made myself clear?"  
  
Mouth open, Lysander was silent at first. "...You are unbelievably hot when you're commanding," he finally said, then turned quite red as he realized what he'd blurted out.  
  
This wasn't exactly the answer Elliott had been looking for, but between that and the alcohol in his system he found it satisfying enough for the moment. "Close enough, let us away lest we be here all night."  
  
He had noticed a few things with Lysander so close, like the scent of his cologne, which he hadn't picked up on earlier. But it was a bright, rather floral scent, which one would normally associate with a perfume, not a cologne. He followed that odd thread of thought and considered the difference between the two and what they meant, and felt Lysander elbow him gently.  
  
"Hey, what's on your mind?" he smiled.  
  
"Your cologne, or is it perfume?" Elliott said, furrowing his brow, "it is assumed that men wear cologne and women perfume, but it is also assumed that the former is often more spicy and musky, while the latter more floral and sweet. What you wear is somewhat between the both of them, and to be honest, I wonder if the terminology is split upon a gender-specific basis and not a compositional one."  
  
Again there was that merry laugh that made Elliott feel that warm butterfly-tingle, as well as the accompanying smile. "I get you, I sorta wondered the same thing once. Technically, it's perfume, but I loved the citrus-and-floral smell, and it really works well with my body chemistry. Thanks. For what it's worth, yours is nice, too. Very clean and fresh."  
  
They conversed about this the rest of the way back, and after Elliott let them in and turned on the lights, Lysander made a straight line for the kitchen. "Take off your shirt, I'll get you a drink."  
  
"I...pardon?" It wasn't an unreasonable request, and Elliott strangely didn't feel embarrassed about the prospect of partially undressing around him, but the command was unexpected and unusual.  
  
"I'm getting you a glass of tomato juice," he replied, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cupboard, "you had some food, which is good, but you drank enough that you've probably depleted some salts, electrolytes, and vitamins. Tomato juice is pretty good for replenishing that, and it also stains like crazy, so I'd rather not risk having to get it out of those nice clothes you wear just in case one of us gets clumsy."  
  
Elliott considered this and nodded, fumbling at the buttons on his waistcoat as he strolled to the bedroom. "You raise valid points all around. Under normal circumstances I'd feel rather silly in that you need to be such a stern voice of reason, but this isn't normal for me, and instead I feel grateful that I have a friend that looks out for my well-being like this."  
  
It took him longer than usual to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt, and when trying to remove it suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten to undo the ones on his wrists. Sighing to himself, he sat down on the edge of the bed as he was joined by Lysander, holding two glasses as he stood in the doorway. Also under normal circumstances he would likely have felt self-conscious about being observed like this, especially in his own bedroom, but right now, he was more focused on buttons, and upon removing his shirt, tried to toss it over a chair, which he missed completely.  
  
"I'll get that," Lysander offered, handing Elliott a glass. He picked it up and draped it over the back of the chair as Elliott carefully drained his drink, already feeling quite a bit better. Passing back the empty vessel, he saw that Lysander had likewise finished his own and walked back out to put the glasses in the kitchen. Elliott ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as he took stock of his physical state when Lysander returned.  
  
"I shall have to make this up to you. I can feel the alcohol's effects starting to fade, and though I would not have had a hangover in the morning, I would not be feeling completely myself. Thank you, Lysander, you are a considerate friend and a dear companion."  
  
That warm smile again, the one that touched his eyes, appeared as Lysander leaned against the door frame. "You too, mate. Get some sleep, I'll be back over tomorrow some time if you want me to check in on you, just in case. Not sure how good you're feeling, or if you want to be bothered if you're writing."  
  
"I would welcome both your presence and ideas. Already you have shown me new possibilities, and I would see if there are others that we can uncover."  
  
"Sure thing. I'll see you tomorrow, then. G'nite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	21. Uncommon Interests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This is one of the chapters that I've been so eager to write, and I'm damn near giddy that I've finally gotten to it. It's one of those ones I sorta wanted to do back in book 1, but didn't have the confidence or skill to pull off. Also, the musical that Elliott references is this universe's version of [Les Misérables](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Mis%C3%A9rables_\(musical\)), and Lysander had the role of [Enjolras](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enjolras%0A), performing "Do You Hear the People Sing," because damn if that song isn't iconic, and I totally believe he'd nail that character. ...You know, as in he'd totally be brilliant in that part, not- Oh sod it, we all know that he'd shag him, he's cute. :P//

Elliott laced the fingers of one hand with Lysander’s, the other supporting his own weight as he leaned down to nibble his ear, making Lysander gasp. That lovely, copper-red hair was a bright contrast against the sheets, somewhat disheveled and tousled. Lysander reached up with his other hand to knot his fingers in Elliott’s blonde locks, kissing him on the cheek. Shifting a bit so he could move his hand, Elliott ran it slowly down Lysander’s body, from his shoulder to those hips that he for so long had desired to touch, and-  
  
-Blinked at the light streaming in from the bedroom window. Confused, he raised himself up on his elbows, recalling that he’d been dreaming, but what was it-  
  
 _Oh gods, we were-!_  
  
Despite being alone, he turned bright red with embarrassment and put his face in his hands.  
  
 _By the light, I cannot believe… How indecent! He’s a friend, not a… Well, granted, his performance last night was alluring, and he is quite attractive and free with his charms, but still, there’s no call for these sorts of thoughts. …He could have pressed the issue last night; I was receptive to a number of suggestions, and if he had suggested anything physical I’d have accepted it. I very nearly initiated it myself, to be honest._  
  
Sighing, he rested his arms on his knees with his shoulders slumped.  
  
 _That dance, I cannot get that moment out of my mind. The fires of his passions consume me, and I dare not tell him. I shall put it from my mind, there is work to be done. Besides, he has stated that he is not pursuing a relationship, and we have only known each other less than two weeks. I should get to know him better first._  
  
That last thought caused him to almost trip into the dresser as he stood up. He wasn’t seriously thinking about- No, he was simply being lecherous, that was all. His…physical reaction to his dream was proof of that. He’d deal with it in the shower…  
  
  
A few hours later he put hot water in the press with the coffee and pulled out a mug from the cupboard. On second thought, he pulled out another one, just in case. Lysander had said that he might drop by, and it was around this time of day that he’d visited before. A knock at the screen made him chuckle to himself, and he turned to cross the room and allow in his guest.  
  
“So you were able to make it down after all. Once again I must thank you for your care last night. I am doing much better than I would have on my own.”  
  
The same smile as last night returned. “Glad to hear it. I felt a bit pushy, telling you what to do, sorry about that, but I was a little worried.”  
  
Elliott returned to the kitchen and pulled the cream from the refrigerator as he prepared to pour the coffee. “Quite alright, and to be honest I believe that I got a little pushy as well. My memories are somewhat hazy, but I do remember everything. I recall that we had an interesting conversation on the way back, what did we…” He had just poured both cups and set down the press when he gasped and put his hands over his face. “Ah! I cannot believe that I- I am _so_ sorry!”  
  
Laughing, Lysander set Resonance against the table and joined Elliott in the kitchen. “It’s quite alright, you meant well and were right, to be honest. And it was interesting to see that side of you come out. I didn’t expect that at all. Thanks,” he said, accepting a mug from Elliott and strolling over to the bookshelves, “I really do downplay my skills, and I need to stop doing that. I’m quite good at what I do, all of it,” he grinned, winking at Elliott before turning his attention back to the shelves, “and I should really take more pride in it. Oh! You read these, too?”  
  
“Hmm?” Elliott picked up his own cup and walked over to see what Lysander was examining. It was the magazines in which he’d been published. “Of a sort, why do you ask?”  
  
“I’ve been reading them for a while. They publish a lot of new writers, so it’s a great place to pick up on authors that I might want to follow. Not everything is good, but most of it is, and I totally respect someone putting their work out there like that. I just play what others write, so people who can make things deserve to be recognized. You know, I think this was the first one that…” He pulled out the first magazine in the series and set his mug on the table to flip through it. “There’s a new author I’ve been reading that I've quite liked, I think that they started in this issue.”  
  
 _…Wait, does he mean…_  
  
Elliott suddenly felt a bit light-headed. “You mean that there’s someone that you’ve been reading continually?”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, flipping through the pages to get to the story he was looking for, “you can definitely tell that they’re new, but they’ve got a lot of skill and great ideas. They just need a bit more confidence in their writing. Here it is- Wait.” He looked at the title of the story then glanced outside. “…’A Legend from the Gem Sea.’ Isn’t that…” It was now that he saw the name attached to it, and looked up at Elliott with surprise. “No _WAY_.“  
  
Unsuccessfully hiding a smile behind his mug, Elliott nodded. “That is the ‘small success’ I mentioned before. So far I have had a short story publication every month, but…”  
  
“I love your work!” Lysander laughed, almost causing Elliott to drop his coffee, “you were already good but I could see your writing evolve and improve as you gained confidence. And experience! Oh, this is too funny. What are the odds?"  
  
He laughed again and traded the magazine for his coffee as Elliott smiled at his compliments. "This is quite the amusing coincidence, and I never thought that I would meet one who was interested in my writing. At least, not until I had written my novel, but until I met you, that seemed to only be a dream, not a reality. And do not sell yourself short on this point, either. You may not create stories but it does take a significant amount of skill to tell them."  
  
"Heh, yeah, that's true, too. I really did get a kick out of working with the Players, I really should get in contact with them again."  
  
"Players?"  
  
Sipping his coffee, Lysander sat down on the piano bench and nodded. "Oh, right. I did a lot of freelance work, so to speak, with smaller theater groups growing up, but the last ten or so years I've been a part of the Grand Company Players. You've likely not heard of us-"  
  
"I love _your_ work!" Elliott exclaimed, now the one to be amazed by the other person's past, "the Players do some of the best performances I've seen. Your musicals have the best choreography and composition as well. Two summers ago you did my favorite- Half a moment," he gasped, seeing a grin form on Lysander's face, "don't tell me that _you_ were a part of it?"  
  
In reply, Lysander set aside his coffee, stood up, and closed his eyes, relaxing as he exhaled. When he opened them again his posture and demeanor had changed, transformed into the character he had played. To Elliott's delight, he performed the first chorus of the song for which that character was known, and applauded when Lysander's familiar smile returned.  
  
"Brilliant! I remember you now, you played that role to perfection. Your death was beautiful, and- Oh, I'm sorry, that sounds rather bad, doesn't it?"  
  
Chuckling, Lysander returned yet again to his seat and picked up his mug. "No, I totally get it. Too many people try to be overly dramatic or whatever, and it's supposed to be poignant and tragic. All of that optimism, bravery, and hope for the future. He fights for high ideals and a better future but in the middle of battle is cut down, unable to see the future that he helps bring about. I auditioned specifically for that role, you know, and while the rest of the Players are good, I don't think anyone else could have done it better."  
  
"Now _that_ is the confidence I want to see," Elliott smiled, tapping Lysander on the nose, "and I agree wholeheartedly. It very nearly brought me to tears, that honest portrayal, I felt a connection with the character that some actors might not have had the skill to establish."  
  
Resting his elbow on the edge of the piano and his fist on his chin, Lysander's smile got softer and warmer. "Thanks. That really means a lot. Actors get both a lot of applause and grief, but it's usually the lead roles that everyone loves and remembers. I always picked the support roles because they just don't get enough attention and respect. And speaking of both, wow, I can't believe that Sam picked that song last night. I'm glad that I knew it so it wouldn't look like I was just bragging, but damn, it was difficult to make that look classy instead of erotic."  
  
"You somehow managed both," Elliott replied without thinking, then gripped his mug tightly, embarrassed by his admission. "Ah- That is, I have not done much dance myself, but I could see how and what you did and why, and as someone who is a fellow patron of the arts I understand the difficulty- Not that I- Oh dear." He put his mug on the table and his face in his hands again, turning bright red.  
  
 _Just shut up, you'll only embarrass yourself further._  
  
"You know how to dance?" Elliott looked up to see Lysander's face lit up even further by a broad smile. "You said that you wanted private lessons some time. Either _you_ are the one who needs confidence, or you have ulterior motives."  
  
The smile became a little suggestive, and Elliott turned even brighter. "I- That is, yes, I do know some, but not properly trained as you, I just learned a bit here and there, and... Oh sweet Yoba I feel a fool." He hid behind his hands again and heard the creak of the piano bench as Lysander stood. Peering up from behind his hands once more, Lysander stood in front of him, wearing that warm, inviting smile and holding out a hand.  
  
"Show me."  
  
At first Elliott hesitated. He wasn't a good dancer at all, and he'd not done it in years. Besides, it was so embarrassing-  
  
Wait, why _was_ it embarrassing? To open one's self to another in such a manner that leaves one vulnerable? That was called _trusting_ someone. Lysander was the one person that he knew he could implicitly trust. Almost cautiously, Elliott reached out and accepted Lysander's hand. It was warm and strong, but still gentle, and he squeezed Elliott's hand in support before helping him to his feet. Unsure as to what he should be doing, he felt the wave of butterflies again as Lysander put his hand on his hip and took his other hand in his own. He'd been thinking about that all night, and then this morning with that dream, and now he was actually _touching_ him, oh _gods_... Then his concern was forgotten as he realized that Lysander had given him the lead position, not sure what to make of it.  
  
"Ready? Oh, I suppose we'd need music," Lysander remarked, tapping the fingers of his free hand on Elliott's shoulder, "and a dance. Heh, I'm such an airhead now and then. How about a basic waltz? Easy enough." His mouth dry, Elliott could only nod, and felt the tingling rush again at that smile. Closing his eyes, Lysander began to hum his song. For a few seconds, Elliott was paralyzed with indecision.  
  
 _No more hesitation. No more fears. I can do anything with him at my side._  
  
It had been several years, so he was a little clumsy at first, but Lysander moved smoothly with him, somehow able to guide even though Elliott was technically the one leading. Eyes still closed, he continued to hum, providing a guiding tempo and beat that Elliott could follow. After a minute he began to get the feel for it again, and in an unexpected moment of confidence, tried to push his own limits. Lysander was the skilled dancer, but that didn't mean that he couldn't try to surprise him, didn't it? Despite his best efforts, Lysander matched him effortlessly, flowing and moving with him as though they'd practiced together already.  
  
He hadn't felt like this before; the desire to push himself beyond his limits and challenge a partner- an _equal_ -, to really let himself go and have fun. Carefully avoiding what there was of furniture in the room, he allowed his steps to get more dramatic, using all of the available floor space. Lysander stopped humming to laugh happily, flashing him that sunny grin that he instinctively returned. Even without an external song, Elliott moved with the memory of the music. He was lost in those bright hazel eyes and that smile, and the dance only ended when Lysander threw his arms around his shoulders, hugging him with gratitude.  
  
"Thank you _so_ much, I haven't been able to do that in ages. We've got to do this again some time."  
  
Returning the hug, Elliott allowed himself to take in all of his senses; the color of that fire-red hair, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter...  
  
 _I fear that I am falling for you, but even more terrifying is not having you near. This light, this life, this love that you feel and share, I have experienced nothing like this before. Light burn me, I am being consumed by your fire and I will not have it any other way. You took such a risk opening yourself up to me, and in return I have done the same. We are both so much greater for it. I almost wish that this moment would not have to end..._  
  
"I have no obligations today," Elliott hedged, "so if you still have the time for a little while..." He wasn't certain how to continue the thought, and as always, Lysander saved him the need to do so. Hugging him again, he pulled out his phone, tapped a few things, and brought up some music. "Style change?" Elliott smiled, and Lysander returned it.  
  
"Keep up!"  
  
Swept up in the energy, he took Lysander's hand again (this time feeling no concern about his other hand on his friend's waist) and immediately flowed into the steps he could remember, followed and yet guided by his partner.  
  
Elliott got no writing at all done that day, but he didn't regret a moment of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	22. Phoebus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //So I was mucking about with stuff the other day, and once I'm back in a job (and I finish this series, dear GODS this has been running a while) I need to sit down and have a go at both novel series I've had in mind; a near-future sci-fi story, and a high-fantasy high-tech world that's been my pet project for about a decade now, but has been mothballed while I take care of Life Stuff And Things. No shit, about 80% of the characters in R&S are expys or have traits from the characters from that latter series, so getting the chance to "test run" them like this has been amazing for helping me flesh out both them and the world they're in. :)
> 
> No other commentary today, I had a good weekend to mellow the hell out, and started up a new SDV save. ...Once I finished doing some texture merging for some skin mods I'd downloaded. Ended up devouring all of my RAM (16GB, impressive) doing something stupid, so I just went to bed 'cause it was 4am. Woke up to error messages on the lines of "I ran out of memory, what the f**k were you doing, dumbass??" Everything sorted itself out and I didn't have to do anything or reboot. Huzzah. :P//

Lysander returned the next day at the same time, and as before, Elliott had coffee prepared.  
  
“You don’t need to wait on me,” Elliott remarked as he poured them a cup each, “just come right on in. My door is always open to you.”  
  
As was his new habit, Lysander leaned Resonance against the table. “Well, if you say so. It feels a bit weird just barging in, though. I mean, what if you were getting changed or something?” he joked, and Elliott chuckled as he handed over a cup of coffee.  
  
“Then it would be my fault for leaving the bedroom door open while I did so.”  
  
“I guess I’ll have to visit unexpectedly some time,” replied the musician, earning an amused smile as Elliott sat down at his laptop.  
  
“Once wasn’t enough the other night?”  
  
“You think I wouldn’t be interested in seeing you like that again?” Lysander smirked, leering at him as he sipped his drink. “Though the next time I’d rather you be in full control of yourself, I almost felt like I was taking advantage of your state.”  
  
“As would I,” Elliott replied, with a similar smirk, “but perhaps the situation could be reversed. Turnabout is fair play, you know!” As he said it he suddenly felt a bit silly and cleared his throat as he turned away, taking a long sip of his coffee.  
  
“You really aren’t used to flirting, are you?” Lysander grinned, sitting on the piano bench and resting one ankle over the other knee.  
  
“I-! No, I am not. My apologies, that was forward of me.”  
  
“You are just too much, y’know? That wasn’t forward at all, you were sassing me right back and I’ve missed that. The only other person who can do that so far is Sam, and he’s just not as sophisticated as you are. Abby kinda can, too, but I get the feeling that it’s to rib Sebastian in a roundabout way, and he's almost no fun at all. Just say whatever’s on your mind, mate, you can say anything around me.”  
  
Setting aside his coffee mug, Elliott considered this. “I shall try. It is not normally in my nature to be so bold around others, particularly if it might give the wrong impression. It feels as though I am taking far too much a personal interest in someone, and in addition, I lack your confidence, and... "  
  
With a warm smile, Lysander stretched his legs in front of himself and crossed one ankle over the other. "No, it's alright, I get you. For me, it's not so much about being 'attracted' to someone as it is a way to make someone else feel good about themselves. I was being a bit theatrical and cheeky the other day at the park, but I really do like making someone smile. So if it means being a bit goofy or playful at the same time, well, sometimes it helps _them_ because they know that they can accept the honest compliment but not worry about other overtones. Or undertones. Whatever, I need another coffee," he muttered, staring at the scant drops in the bottom of his mug.  
  
"I will pour for the both of us, as I likewise require a refill. But I think I begin to understand. You are taking an interest in someone, not in a romantic sense, but in one that is vested in their well-being and sense of self. Do I have the gist of it?" he asked, and smiled at Lysander's nod while he prepared the last of the coffee from the press. "Perhaps I shall have the ability to do so myself, but I simply do not know if it is in my nature. When I present a compliment I do so with as much honesty and clarity that I can offer so that one knows it is genuine."  
  
Huffing a light chuckle, Lysander took the fresh mug with thanks and took a welcome sip. "Fair enough. It works, I'll be the sassy tease and you'll be the refined gentleman. What a pair we'll make!" His eyes momentarily crossed as he considered something and laughed heartily. "And again I come back to that vocal duet. Damn, you sounded good! And those lyrics, oh wow, that was brilliant. Now that I know who you are it's no surprise that you've got the skill you do."  
  
Elliott felt a small jolt of panic at this. How had Lysander discovered his past? He wasn't hiding anything, but at the same time he was trying to make it on his own, and-  
  
-Oh, right. The short stories. Of course. Fortunately, Lysander hadn't noticed his discomfiture, which he disguised behind making himself a bit more comfortable in his computer chair. "No flirting this time? How do I know if it's genuine?" he asked, meaning it in jest, then realizing that it could be construed as rude. His unease was dispelled in the light of that warm smile, and he realized that he'd mirrored it without a second thought.  
  
"It's actually pretty easy to tell whether or not I'm genuine," Lysander remarked with a shrug. At Elliott's prompt to continue, he smirked over the rim of his mug. "Easy. If I'm smiling I'm probably not being completely serious."  
  
"It is rare to see you not doing so."  
  
"There you go!"  
  
Elliott laughed heartily at the grin that split his friend's face. "I find that all too easy to believe, which is why I feel the need to treat it with the proverbial grain of salt. But as you have reminded, that song in the park was unusual for me. I am unaccustomed to and unskilled with improvisation, and that moment surprised me more than any of you. If it is not an onerous request, I would ask your assistance when you have the time. You have been-" He cut himself off as he realized what he was about to say.  
  
Shrugging, Lysander switched the position of his feet and shifted on the bench. "Easily, I've got time in the late morning and early afternoon. What have I been? You were about to say something. What's on your mind?"  
  
Biting his lip, Elliott was almost unable to meet that soft hazel stare. There was no teasing or mischief in it, only curiosity, and he wondered if admitting his thoughts was going too far. Clearing his throat, he looked into his mug, hoping that the dark liquid would give him the clarity that he needed.  
  
"You...are a muse to me," he admitted, finding the words slowly coming to him more easily as he continued speaking, "I had been lost in a rather dark fit of depression for several months when we had met, and to be honest, I was at the lowest point I had ever been in my life. I had considered not attending the festival at first, but hearing of your story from Lewis, I was intrigued. Perhaps before I knew it myself I saw a tale that I could use to weave my own epic. It is a selfish thought, I admit that freely. I did not know what to expect, but you caught my interest immediately; everything about you was a mystery and I wanted to learn more. For the first time in months I was genuinely curious about something." He took a long drink to ease the dryness in his mouth, and then smiled at the next memory.  
  
"And then you stood up and recited those lines flawlessly! I had to join you, if anything else because I needed to see what would happen next. Such a strange, brilliant young man. Enigmatic and charismatic, but hiding behind a mask for reasons I could not discern. After we parted ways and I returned home I realized that I had been given the seed that I needed to grow the tree of my novel. I feared being over-eager in meeting you again, but to my relief it was you that approached me. The few times that we have been able to work together I have been gifted with such inspiration as I have only been able to dream of before."  
  
"Which muse am I?" Lysander asked, that smile barely touching the corners of his eyes, "I am a dancer, but also a musician. However, you are a writer, and it seems that that's where you needed your ideas." He waited for Elliott to reply, and chuckled as the author turned a little red at some inner thought. "I trust you, mate, I told you that already. Talk to me, which one am I? I'm proper curious now, you can't leave me hanging like this!"  
  
His gaze flickering between Lysander and his coffee, Elliott hastily drank the last of his brew and stood up to pace back and forth, holding the mug between both hands. "Apollo. God of the sun, music, poetry, healing, and more. More than simply a muse, you were a light that I did not know was missing from my life and illuminated a path that I did not before know existed. I fear that I may have been somewhat obsessive in our early meetings, for which I apologize profusely. It had been a very long time since I felt the urge to write like that, with ideas that I could not transcribe quickly enough. You brought me back from a very unpleasant place that terrifies me now that I have the ability to examine it from a distance. Thank you."  
  
He paused to put the mug on the table and saw that Lysander hadn't moved. Concerned that he'd finally gone too far, he turned to him, ready to offer any words that he could to mend the situation, but realized that the silence wasn't negative. That smile completely lit up his eyes, and that radiant warmth and gentleness... Oh _gods_ , Elliott felt a little weak at the knees.  
  
Lysander set aside his mug, stood up, and hugged him firmly. There was no need for further words, Elliott could feel it in his friend's touch; he understood the honesty and gratitude, and shared it himself. He'd never seen Lysander smile quite like that before, and he felt as though he'd been missing something very special his entire life. There was also something about Lysander's posture, the way his fingers dug into Elliott's shoulder, and he guessed that something he'd said had touched something very deeply within him. Not a nerve, no, but there seemed to be some kind of relief or comfort that, while subtle, hadn't been there before.  
  
Kissing him on the cheek, Lysander stepped back a little and then grimaced at himself. "Damn it, sorry, shouldn't have done that."  
  
"Why not?" Elliott asked, surprised by but not averse to the act of affectionate gratitude.  
  
"Because...I didn't think that you'd be comfortable with it," replied Lysander, looking away, "and here I am getting up in your personal space without asking. I already did it to Sebastian and I still feel bad about it. Trying to break this habit, sorry."  
  
With an amused sigh, Elliott tapped him on the nose. "If I did not like it then I'd have told you so earlier. It isn't that I'm uncomfortable with it, it's that it isn't in my nature to initiate such contact. Do not hold yourself back or change yourself because of me. I am glad that you can find yourself again in this town. _Be yourself_."  
  
The smile returned a little and Lysander looked away again. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm too much of a flirt, and it _is_ a bad habit that I really do need to- Ah!"  
  
He jumped a little as Elliott flicked at his ear, the same way that he and Charles would do to each other when they were being particularly bothersome. "I have already told you twice now, stop that! That is a part of you and you are my friend. If there is something that I find to be troublesome then I shall inform you, but until then carry on as you are."  
  
Giggling, Lysander put his fists on his hips. "You really are hot when you're being commanding."  
  
"And you are a gleeful nuisance that I tolerate for your brilliance and insight."  
  
  
They talked for a little while longer before Lysander ran off to take care of errands, and Elliott sank back into his computer chair with another smile. Lysander really did bring a cheerful energy with him wherever he went, and after every visit Elliott felt himself inspired to write.  
  
Opening his laptop and then a document file, he leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head as he sorted out the tangle of ideas that were filtering in at a rapid pace. An idle thread of thought went back to the day at the park, and that was the one that he grabbed onto. That vocal battle, it had been fun, but that off-handed comment... " _Two beings of power, competing for the attention of a lovely woman, determined to prove that their method is the best._ " He stared at the ceiling as he let his thoughts sort themselves, and they began to do so neatly, arranging themselves into structure, plot, characters, and more.  
  
 _Yes, this will work. He said it in jest, but it was exactly what I needed. Light help me, you truly are my muse, and I will do anything to assist you in your own success._  
  
Sitting up straight, he began typing, slowly at first, then quicker as his fingers caught up with his thoughts. He had a couple of false starts; they weren't _bad_ , but not quite what he was looking for, and he saved those files as "notes for later." This draft, however, yes, it felt right, this was the one. He worked on it for several hours until he felt the pang of hunger, and at a glance at the clock on his taskbar, realized that not only had he not eaten at all that day, it was extremely late.  
  
Making a quick snack to tide him over until the morning, Elliott ate quickly as he undressed, now feeling the exhaustion that had been held back by enthusiasm. Tossing his pants over the back of the chair (he'd hang up everything neatly tomorrow), he turned out the lights and barely remembered to plug in his phone before sliding under the sheets. He yawned deeply, rolled onto his side, hugged a pillow to his chest, and dozed off before the light on his phone's screen could shut off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	23. The Goddess and the Sculptor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I freakin' LOVE tormenting Elliott like this. I'm such a bad person, I know, but c'mon, Lysander is so good at what he does and he knows it, and it's so much fun writing the interactions I've headcannoned since book 1.//

Despite going to bed later than he normally had, he still managed to wake up five minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Disabling the alarm, Elliott got up to shower and dress with greater speed than he had in quite some time. But then, it had been quite some time since he'd felt this energetic and had so much that he wanted to write...  
  
Scrubbing his hair to just past "damp" and combing it quickly, he grabbed his earrings from the side of the sink and put them on as he strode to the main room. He opened the laptop and the document file he'd been working in when he had gone to bed, and tapped out a couple of quick sentences that had just come to mind. Then another, and a few more, and without thinking about it sat down to write for at least an hour before he remembered that he had wanted both food and drink that morning.  
  
The coffee steeped in the press while he made two fast slices of toast, buttered them, and prepared a mug of coffee with swift efficiency. He returned to his workstation with the small plate and warm mug and continued to write until he heard a polite knock on the door. As he looked up, Lysander let himself in, knocking the sand off of his boots before he entered.  
  
"Hey mate, looks like you're busy already. It appears that my influence precedes me," he grinned, resting Resonance against the table, and laughed at a sudden thought, "and I rather like the 'Apollo' comparison. Skilled strings musician and vocalist, warm and brilliant personality, epitome of the beardless and athletic youth, I can see it!" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and turned his gaze over to Elliott, who felt a small flutter of...something at that stare. "You know, it would make you look a bit old now, but I bet you could totally rock a beard once you're in your 40s or something. All dignified and stuff. Right now, though, you've got that great 'casual bachelor' look going on and it really works for you."  
  
Elliott wasn't quite sure how to follow this. Lysander was smiling, yes, but it wasn't that cheeky, flirty one that he'd had most of yesterday, it was contemplative and honest. "I... Thank you," he finally replied, enjoying the compliment, "I had sometimes worried that I would appear to be too formal, but you aren't the only one who has stated that my appearance matches the style that I had sought."  
  
Waving a hand dismissively, Lysander grinned again, but this time with a hint of mischief. "Pfft, if someone doesn't get your aesthetic then they're not worth talking to. You're not a fop or a twit, you're just a little posh, and a lot refined. You take pride in and put effort toward looking presentable, but you don't spend a lot of time or money on it, and you're not obsessive. I respect that. Hell, look at me, I just found a way to be comfortably lazy. Not like I'm trying to impress anyone, right?"  
  
 _You weren't trying, but you succeeded anyway. I wonder what will happen when you truly put your mind and energy into a project._  
  
Finishing his coffee, Elliott made a non-committal shrug. "That is true, but you still have _some_ level of pride in yourself. Regardless, as much as I am enjoying this conversation, I require a refill so that I can continue my work. I am certain that you would appreciate a cup yourself, and I would appreciate your help, so allow me to-"  
  
"I've got it," Lysander interrupted, grabbing the mug from his hand and pushing him back into the chair with a hand on his shoulder, "keep working, just tell me what you're thinking of."  
  
"Really, it's no bother."  
  
"And _I'm_ your muse, remember? That means helping you create, and part of helping is getting you a coffee so that you can continue to work instead of messing about with menial tasks, okay?" He tapped Elliott on the forehead and smiled, taking any bite out of his words.  
  
With a sigh, Elliott nodded and returned to his laptop. "Very well, I cannot argue with your logic. I simply feel rather...lazy in having a guest do that."  
  
"Go ahead and be a little lazy," Lysander called from over his shoulder as he retrieved another mug, "it's not like I'm in here cooking dinner while you just sit about with a book or anything. Not that you'd want me to, I'm not a good cook, and while it has been a while since I set something on fire, I think I'm due for a culinary accident of _some_ sort in the near future. Anyway, you looked really into your work when I walked in. You finally figured out what sort of story you want to write?"  
  
"That I have, although..."  
  
Lysander strode over and handed Elliott a mug, then sat on the edge of the table near him as Elliott typed quickly, having just thought of something new. "Oh? What's it about?"  
  
"I... Very well, at the risk of ridicule, your reminder yesterday set off a cascade of ideas that I have been transcribing since the moment you departed."  
  
Laughing merrily, Lysander took another sip of his drink and fixed Elliott with an amused smile. “So you’re really running with that idea I threw at you that day at the park? That romance-battle thing? It was just a silly suggestion.”  
  
Elliott riposted that technically it was, but he had already developed a plot and characters, and once more remarked that Lysander's suggestions would be welcome. At his inquiry of what that would be, Elliott returned the smile, stating that one of the protagonists was based upon him, and therefore he needed to know how he would act and talk. Laughing again, Lysander remarked that he didn't think that he was quite _that_ interesting, and grinned even harder when he dodged the flick that Elliott had aimed at his ear, the same as yesterday.  
  
“One of these days I will get you to accept that you _are_ , in fact, interesting and worthwhile to be around. If you weren’t do you think that I would spend so much time in your company?” Elliott replied with mock sternness.  
  
His grin changing into a smirk, Lysander crossed one knee over the other and held his mug in both hands. “Aww, I thought it was just because I’m so cute I can get away with almost anything.”  
  
The merry attitude was infectious, and Elliott gestured emphatically as he returned to the keyboard. “Now _there_ is material with which I can work.”  
  
As for the material in question, Lysander asked him about what it was that he had hoped to accomplish with that character. Not just who and what they were at the moment, but what they would be in the future, and how they planned to accomplish those goals, so that he could give better advice in writing that character. A rather spicy suggestion nearly made Elliott spill his drink, and produced another giggle from the copper-haired man. He returned to the topic at hand of character-building without missing a beat, listing traits and concepts that would need to first be developed before the character could properly take form.  
  
After a few minutes, Elliott set down his mug and pushed back from the keyboard, reclining back in his chair and huffing a chuckle at himself. “I may claim to be a wordsmith but you are the sculptor who carves a story out of an idea.”  
  
It was Lysander's turn to shrug, but it was softened with another smile as he took a long sip of his coffee. “Not really. We’re two sides of the same coin. You create the stories that I tell. I’ve just been doing stage and music for as long as I can remember, so storytelling is completely intuitive to me. I know _how_ and _why_ stories work, and I know their structure and flow." He leaned over to tap him on the forehead again, meeting his eyes with that warm, hypnotic hazel stare. "But the thing that makes _you_ special is that you are the one that builds those stories. Like Pygmalion and the statue, you are the artisan who creates something beautiful, I’m just the one that gives it life.”  
  
 _I am not the least bit surprised that he is so well-versed in the old myths and legends. His knowledge might rival even my own, and I actually hope that it does. Long have I desired an equal, but for once, I would like to know one who is my superior._  
  
Retrieving his coffee, Elliott teased that it was a goddess that had given it life (the goddess of love, to be specific, but he chose not to mention that), and Lysander was of the opinion that he would make it look quite good either way, as evidenced by the photos that he'd shared back at the community center. Elliott remembered those photos quite vividly, and though he said nothing, he was quite certain that his interest in those images was quite obvious, but it thankfully went unnoticed. It then occurred to Lysander to ask who the romantic rival would be, and this time Elliott was unable to hide his embarrassment, trying to cover for himself by hastily finishing the last of his coffee.  
  
“No way, so you really took that idea to heart, hunh?" Lysander giggled,"maybe Sam can turn that song into a full rock opera based on your story.”  
  
Feeling a little annoyed at Lysander's amusement, but relieved that he thought it was an interesting idea, Elliott justified it with the position that all authors engage in some level of self-insertion, and the work that the two of them had done was what had inspired all of this in the first place. When Elliott said that he'd change it later and took Lysander's mug to refill, he flashed that cheeky grin again, telling him to not to change anything, as the idea of them doing that sort of thing on a bet was a funny concept. Elliott was glad that he had his back to the other man because he couldn't hide a smile, glad that not only had he not offended his friend, but that he found it as amusing an idea as he did.  
  
Shifting his position a little on the table, Lysander tapped a finger to his lip as he thought about his literary avatar. "In that case, if you’re writing for me, it mostly depends on the other person what I do.”  
  
Puzzled, Elliott paused as he refilled both mugs. "How so?"  
  
Lysander shrugged and rested his weight on his hands behind himself, swinging his legs. Was he never not in motion? "So I’m an unrepentant flirt, yeah, but the _way_ it’s done depends on the person. A lot of it is based on touch, but again, technique depends on who I’m using it on.”  
  
This made even less sense, and Elliott frowned a little as he tried to parse it. "Sorry, I don't quite follow," he sighed, feeling a little annoyed at himself for not understanding.  
  
Turning a little to see Elliott as he approached, Lysander eyed him up and down as he considered something. “Right, so you’ve got that coffee, and you’re going to hand me a cup, which I would normally just accept. But if I was being flirty or playful, I’d do something like this.” Elliott felt his pulse jump as Lysander took the mug from him with both hands, lightly brushing his fingers with his own and letting the touch linger there _just_ a little bit. “Nothing terribly overt or obvious, just enough to be noticed, and _that’s_ the trick; to make them aware of you and get them thinking about you. And you _did_ notice, right?" Elliott nodded and Lysander's smile grew brighter now that he'd been able to make his point. "But it could be brushed off as me just being extra careful about not dropping the cup, or maybe you’re just over-analyzing it. Regardless, it’s small gestures like that. You want them to think of you, to plant that seed in their mind and let them cultivate it." He paused again to think of a couple of last things and sipped the fresh brew. "Also, body language and eye contact play a big part of it, but let’s focus on one thing first.”  
  
This all made sense in a strange way, but it was only strange in that he'd had so little or no experience with it at all, on the giving _or_ receiving end. “I think that I understand now, although…” Though he didn't verbally finish the thought, he traced the mental thread as he sat down, glancing at the screen.  
  
 _Now that I am aware of it I know to look for it, and I can write about it. But though I know if it now, do I recall any of those moments in the past? He has no reason to have interest in me personally, and yet I cannot help but wonder if he has offered more than simply playful gestures in the past._  
  
"You had a thought?" Lysander asked, and Elliott replied in the neutral, that he had, but it was unimportant. That cheeky grin split his face as he took another sip. "...You were wondering if and how often I’d done something like that to you, didn’t you?”  
  
 _Oh gods, I did not realize that I was so transparent._  
  
He turned somewhat red at Lysander's too-accurate observation, and the grin softened to a friendly smile. “Don’t be embarrassed, everyone at some point wonders that. That’s one of those bad habits I’m really trying to change. Which isn’t an answer, I know, but as an answer, well… That’s a secret.”  
  
The smile and wink sent a flock of butterflies into motion inside of Elliott, and not for the first (or last!) time did he wonder what he really thought of his friend. "That's more of your flirting, isn't it?" he asked, not certain of what answer he wanted, and Lysander confirmed it, remarking that Elliott seemed to be figuring out how it worked. "You are fortunate that you are cute enough to get away with almost anything," he replied with a wry smile, earning applause and a chuckle as Lysander noticed and appreciated the call-back to his earlier statement. He stood up and walked around to Elliott's side of the table to have a look at the screen so that he could see what was written and give insightful feedback. Elliott gave him the chair so that he could read, and prepared another batch of coffee, noting that he should probably call this his last cup, at least until after lunch.  
  
"This is good stuff," Lysander observed, scrolling through the document, "I totally take back my 'silly suggestion' remark, you can make anything brilliant. So I like what you've got so far with the two rivals. What about their mutual interest, then? I mean, she's gotta be more than just a macguffin or a trophy or something, she needs to be interesting, her own person. Got anything in mind for her yet?"  
  
Sighing, Elliott returned again with drinks and shook his head. "Sadly, no. It isn't that I am not good with writing female characters, it is just that I'm not certain what I want to do with her. I do not want an airheaded trophy, to expand upon your statement, but until I have a better idea of the two rivals I am uncertain who she shall be. I want someone interesting and compelling, someone who initially attracts their attention for her appearance, but captivates them with her _self_."  
  
He sipped his coffee and stared off at nothing while he thought, and Lysander did the same. Then, the musician grinned broadly and put down his drink to stand up. "Okay, let's see if we can get something started." Reaching back, he untied the ribbon that secured his hair and ran his fingers through it to let it flow loosely over his shoulders, and once again Elliott felt his pulse flutter, which was beginning to be both confusing and bothersome. "I've read over what you've got so far, so let's see if I can get in-character so we can build one."  
  
As he had several times before, he rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes, relaxing all of himself. With that usual deep inhale, he held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Elliott almost dropped his mug as Lysander transformed in front of him, but did so without any direct, outward effort. With graceful ease, Lysander flipped his hair back over one shoulder, put a hand on his hip, and gave him a dark and imperious look. Elliott had no idea what his friend had done, but at a glance he was definitely female, and the smoky look quirked into a smile at Lysander understood the confusion.  
  
"Just a bit of stage magic," he giggled, "here, I'll show you, stand like I am, mirror me." Still confused, Elliott did so, and froze when Lysander held up his hands. "Stop! Okay, don't move. The way you're standing, think about it. Look at yourself and then me. Yeah, I said not to move, but you know what I mean." Lysander resumed his pose and smiled as Elliott looked between the both of them, seeking the similarities and differences.  
  
"Ah, I think I see part of it, your weight is mostly on one foot while I am balanced."  
  
"Good eye. Also, your hand. You put a fist on your hip, I used my hand. Not _everyone_ does it like this, but it's usually a good rule of thumb. Also, your shoulders. You have them rolled back and chest out, and you're standing straight. What is different about me?"  
  
Elliott examined him for a moment and saw the subtlety in just a few seconds. "You have your shoulders slightly pulled forward. You aren't hunched, but something about it changes your figure."  
  
"Excellent!" Lysander replied, applauding and stepping forward, "here, I'll show you- Oh, sorry, almost got handsy."  
  
"How often must I tell you? Stop apologizing. If you 'violate my personal space' or the like then I will inform you, but I sense no malicious or perverse intent in your actions. Continue your demonstration. This is genuinely fascinating."  
  
That warm smile tugged at the corner of his lips again, and Lysander nodded. "Sure. So, you're familiar with the differences between male and female forms?" Lysander traced lines on himself as he described, and Elliott made noises of comprehension to prompt him to continue. "For females, the shoulders and hips sort of have the same vertical lines, with the chest tapering in a little to the waist, and flaring back out to the hips. You see it in the exaggerated 'hourglass' ideal that a lot of cultures have. I'm sorta effeminate in that I have dimensions a bit closer to that than most guys. For us, we have slightly wider shoulders than our hips, so it produces more of an upside-down triangle effect." He traced those lines on Elliott, who glanced back and forth between the two of them, seeing what Lysander was describing and felt the lights of comprehension flicker on and make connections.  
  
"I think I understand," he hedged and reached out to Lysander, but it was his turn this time to pull back a little. At a raised eyebrow and a teasing grin, Elliott chuckled at himself and continued his train of thought. "By turning inward like that and shifting your center of balance you created the illusion of a more curved figure that appears more feminine than masculine. Further, not only is long hair more often worn by females, the way you let it fall helped mask and soften some of your harder lines. Now that I understand it I have a better appreciation for those photos. Ah, that is..."  
  
 _Why did I say that? Oh, by the light, I am a complete and total FOOL._  
  
"I understand, and thanks. It's satisfying when a fellow artist understands your work."  
  
Elliott sighed with relief and hoped that it hadn't been too obvious. "Well, I am the one that now requires understanding. This exercise was interesting, but I do not comprehend its purpose."  
  
"I thought it was obvious," Lysander replied, assuming the feminine pose and putting a delicate finger to smiling lips, "we're building her. This time we're working in reverse. The goddess of love has animated your statue, so come now, sculptor, shape me to your desires."  
  
Oh dear gods, Elliott was absolutely certain that his face was completely red, and he could hear his blood pound in his ears. "I don't know if that is how it works, but I shall try. Though I feel as though we are working with clay and not marble."  
  
"I suppose that that works. Then I shall be putty in your hands."  
  
That sultry smile nearly gave Elliott a heart attack. "This is not what I was expecting," he managed, sitting down at his laptop and surreptitiously wiping away sweat, "far from her to be demure and quiet, but I was not planning to write her quite this bold. Not that it is an issue, it simply was not in my initial notes. However, you propose and demonstrate a far more interesting concept than what I had originally considered."  
  
Sitting down again on the edge of the table, Lysander resumed his earlier position with his hands behind himself and crossing one knee over the other, but the _way_ in which he did it invited thoughts that were not safe for this conversation. If ever at all. "You _did_ say that you wanted someone that would captivate others with her self and personality, hmm?" he smiled, already fully "in character" with this new person, "I think that I am exceptionally qualified to assist you with that."  
  
By the light, Lysander was going to be the death of him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	24. Outgoing Intoxication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This chapter happened because a few weeks ago @ValoisFulcanelli and I were chatting about our OCs, and what tattoos they'd have if they did, and... Well, it lead to this. I was legitimately wiping away tears as we talked, that was some FUNNY stuff. You're welcome. :)//

Lysander comfortably straddled Elliott's hips, putting both hands on his shoulders and pushing him back into the pillows. As he leaned down to kiss him, Elliott let his hands wander.  
  
"You've worked so very hard today," Lysander smiled, "I think I'll do the rest of the work..."  
  
  
Fumbling for his phone to shut off the alarm, Elliott yawned and stared blearily at the screen. That was odd, Lysander had gone home after working with him on the novel for several hours, so why did he remember-  
  
_...Oh... Well, that was quite an interesting dream. He certainly is good at what he does. Or at the least, I assume that he is._  
  
Sitting up, he sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, feeling annoyed at himself for dreaming of such a thing. It wasn't that that sort of dream was _wrong_ , simply that it was about a good friend and colleague who he respected.  
  
...But still, given the opportunity...  
  
_No, that opportunity will not happen. How many times must I remind myself?! He has already stated that he is not pursuing a relationship!_  
  
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he paused in standing up as he reconsidered this line of thought.  
  
_Although... He has also stated that he is not averse to an unattached fling, as it were. No, I will not jeopardize our working relationship with mere physical desires. ...That said, if it IS offered, it will be difficult to not take him up on it, but I will leave that decision up to him._  
  
  
Showered and dressed, he was seated at his laptop and finishing a chapter when Lysander arrived. "Good morning! We will have a little time to work before practice this afternoon," Elliott smiled, "let me get us our coffee so we can begin."  
  
"Maybe I should do that," offered Lysander as he set aside Resonance, "you were working pretty hard yesterday, so I should do some myself."  
  
Elliott outright tripped and fell over as he got out of his chair, turning a shade of red almost as bright as his friend's hair.  
  
_By the light!! That's very nearly what he said when-_  
  
Lysander stood over him, looking concerned and offering a hand to help him up. "Whoa, you took a bit of a fall, mate, you okay? You're awfully red. Almost like..." Stifling a giggle, that sunny grin split his face. "Oh wow, did I remind you of something? Tell me!"  
  
Only able to squeak helplessly, Elliott's mind raced as he tried to find something to say to deflect this. He certainly couldn't tell him the truth, no! But at the same time, he was a terrible liar, and didn't like doing so in the first place. Now quite concerned, Lysander took a knee to get down to Elliott's level.  
  
"Hey, seriously, are you okay? If you're not comfortable saying something you don't have to. That just seemed like an odd reaction, that's all."  
  
"I... I don't... You'll laugh," Elliott replied, unable to meet his friend's eyes.  
  
"Then I promise that I won't. But I do mean it, if it's uncomfortable for you I'll drop it."  
  
Elliott hesitated a moment longer, as he still wasn't sure if he should mention it, but at the same time, it _would_ help clear his conscience a bit. "What you said, it was..." He took another breath and held his head in his hands, feeling extremely silly and self-conscious. "I was dreaming last night. We were together in my room, and that was very nearly verbatim what you said just before we..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but he knew that his posture and reaction to his memory very clearly conveyed the events that had next transpired.  
  
With a soft chuckle, Lysander put a hand on his shoulder, and Elliott felt his pulse jump again, remembering that touch in his dream. "Well, I hope it was good for you. It may have been your dream, but I still have pride as a skilled lover, you know."  
  
He was unprepared for the humorous response and replied automatically. "You- Well, yes, it _was_ , and you were as skilled as you claim- I'm sorry, that's not what- Oh gods, I feel such a fool." He curled up on himself again, wishing that he could take back the last five minutes completely.  
  
"Well, I'm glad that you had a good time. Looks like I've been a bit too forward around you, sorry about that. I'll do my best to back off."  
  
"What? No! Not at all!" Elliott replied, taking Lysander's hand as the other man stood up, "there is no fault at all. I am..." Taking a firmer grip, he accepted the help in standing up and continued to hold his hand, actually feeling relieved for his admission. "I am a man of passion, dreams, and experiences. It is not uncommon to dream vividly of the events of the day, or of, well, 'alternate possibilities.' I am not embarrassed in that I dreamt of those activities, it is that you are a trusted friend, and I feel as though those sort of dreams violate that trust."  
  
Chuckling again, Lysander favored him with that soft smile that always did such erratic things to his heart rate. "I understand where you're coming from. Still, I do feel a little bad about doing that to you, even if I wasn't even trying. And thanks for being honest with me like that, I really appreciate it."  
  
"All I ask is that you not mention it to others," Elliott said, feeling the color return to his cheeks again at the thought, "it is strange enough to know that I think of my friends like that, and I'd rather not make them uncomfortable thinking that I might think the same of them."  
  
"Done! Now let me get us that coffee. We don't have much time before practice, but we do have enough for one cup and to review what we did yesterday. After a night's sleep we'll have a better idea of whether or not this will work."  
  
  
It did work, and they were both surprised, upon reading what they had for the second time, just how good their collaboration was. There were a few small things here and there to tinker and adjust, but the concept as a whole was solid, and they both had similar ideas on how it should proceed. They saved their work, closed the laptop, retrieved their necessary belongings, and left for the community center, still discussing possibilities.  
  
Practice was both a long and a short affair; though they all had good sound and synergy together, there simply wasn't much that they could practice, as Sam only had a few full songs written. Working on those helped to work out the musical kinks within them, and with a full band they now had input on several instruments, so most of the afternoon was taken up with Sam making changes and annotations every few minutes. Alex was still getting used to running the soundboard, and the constant halts didn't help him much, but at the same time the downtime gave him the time to tinker with and experiment, which gave him better insight into how the rig worked. As a photographer, Haley had nothing at all to do with the music, but had her camera bag with several lenses and multiple backup batteries and SD cards, so she enjoyed the opportunity to capture the practice session in a candid manner, from numerous angles and heights, even changing out lens types and messing with shutter speeds to generate different effects.  
  
As the afternoon completed its transformation into evening, Sam put his guitar on its stand and stretched. "This was awesome, but my ass is kicked. I'm up for a few beers to wind down. Anyone else?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," Lysander replied, likewise setting aside his instrument and knuckling his back, "I've been doing a crazy amount of creative work the past couple of days and a bit of booze to help me mellow out would be a massive help right about now."  
  
While not everyone was quite in the mood for an alcohol-specific drink, they all were in agreement that it was time for food and drink of some sort, and swiftly cleaned up and packed up, with Lysander locking up once they were all outside. As before, they took one of the large tables in back, and placed various orders with Gus, who wasn't expecting such a turnout, but wasn't complaining at all.  
  
"Awww yeah," Sam sighed, drinking half of his glass in one go, "that's the stuff."  
  
Nodding assent, Lysander drained his glass a bit slower, but steadily. "No kidding, after these last couple of days my brain almost hurts. It feels good, though, I've never been terribly creative, though not for a lack of trying. Actually having useful ideas is pretty nifty."  
  
"It has been more than 'nifty,' I'll have you know," Elliott replied, sipping at his own beer, also needing something to help relax with after the brainstorming of the last two days, "your contributions have been invaluable, and I would have as much of your time as you can spare."  
  
"Ooh," piped up Sam, poking Abigail, "I need to get you and Lys together some time for good design ideas for the band. Like, we totally need matching tattoos or something, y'know?"  
  
Blinking a couple of times, Lysander put his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. "So why do you need me?"  
  
"Uh, duh, 'cause you've totally got experience with that, right?" At the somewhat perplexed look from his friend, Sam frowned. "Wait, you don't? I would have thought you'd have something like a tramp stamp with 'insert x here.'"  
  
Elliott nearly choked on his beer, and he heard Sebastian heave a deep sigh from the other side of the table. Snorting with amusement, Lysander shook his head. "I'm flattered, and I'm pretty sure that I would totally rock a set of arse-antlers, but nope, no tats here. I mean, I don't even have any piercings, why would you assume I've got a tattoo somewhere?"  
  
Shrugging, Sam drained the last of his glass and reached for the pitcher. "After all of the stuff you've bragged about doing, and _everyone_ , I figured that that'd just be something else you had."  
  
"I have considered it, yeah, I was just never sure what to get or where."  
  
With a snicker, Sam refilled both of their glasses. "So, what, you need ideas? How about an arrow on your lower back labeled 'free parking?'"  
  
"Not bloody likely," Lysander replied, taking a sip, "ass, gas, or grass, nobody rides for free."  
  
Wincing a little, Sebastian momentarily joined the conversation. "That's not the context that that expression- You know what? I don't care, leave me out of this."  
  
"Oh, so a parking meter, then!" suggested the guitarist with a grin that connected both ears, "'Insert Coin Into Slot!'"  
  
"You mean a credit card," smirked Lysander, giggling as Elliott nearly inhaled his drink again. Haley and Alex were laughing, and Abigail was already in tears and gasping for breath as Sam drained his second glass and thought of something else.  
  
"So only people with good credit rating need apply? Not a bad idea; your butt may bounce but their checks don't need to."  
  
This actually got a full laugh out of Lysander. "Like hell it does, my ass is way too firm for that. Though I've never had any of my partners complain," he giggled into his glass.  
  
"Whoa, partners, plural? As in more than one at once?" Sam asked, clearing winding up for something as he emptied the pitcher. Lysander put down his glass and gave Sam a flat look.  
  
"You of all people do _not_ get to kink-shame me. Go get laid and _then_ you can bring your sass."  
  
At this point Abigail was holding onto the table for support as tears ran down her face, Sebastian actually looked amused for once, Haley had the hiccups from laughing so hard, and Alex was considering this last comment with confusion, trying to figure out how it would work and with whom. Pouting, Sam put his chin in his hand and took a sip. "Well, I've _tried_ , but you turned me down."  
  
"No, _you_ knocked me on my ass and then kissed me, then walked your drunk ass into the front door as you tried to let yourself in. I already told you that I won't shag anyone unless they're sober, and anyway, like I said, nothing's for free."  
  
"So, what, a beer might get me a handy, what'll dinner get me?" Sam grinned, and this time Elliott was certain to not be drinking while he spoke.  
  
Rolling his eyes and smiling, Lysander smirked at Sam. "You'll have to find out one of these days, won't you?"  
  
"Cool, be right back, ordering munchies."  
  
"Get back here," sighed the copper-haired man as Sam walked by, grabbing him by the belt and tugging. Sam let himself fall with the new change in inertia and flopped into Lysander's lap.  
  
"Make up your damn mind already."  
  
"You're already buzzed, it's not happening tonight."  
  
"Ah-ha! _Tonight_. So some other night!"  
  
With another sigh, but still amused, Lysander poked Sam in the forehead. "Maybe. But definitely not tonight, you utter lush, I'll give you a roll in the sheets when you're not already three of them to the wind."  
  
"You are totes my bestie, dude," Sam giggled, hugging Lysander around the neck, then kissing him rather in the same way that he had the last time. Elliott felt a sudden stab of jealousy at this and immediately wondered where it had come from. Not sure where to put his hands, and certain that he shouldn't encourage this in public, Lysander froze, and Sam again saved him the peril of decision by sitting back up and laughing again. "Wicked totes my bestie. You have the best benefits."  
  
"We aren't friends with benefits, you dingus, now get up, I need to use the restroom and you bouncing around isn't helping any."  
  
"Aww, you're way more comfy than the chair is," he grumbled with good humor.  
  
"That's flattering, but you need to learn to _ask_ in the future. And I'll grab another round when I get back, just a minute."  
  
  
Their merriment and repast finished, they all reconvened outside a couple of hours later. Lysander yawned and stretched deeply, checking the time on his phone. "I shouldn't be this tired for how early it is. I'm off, see some of you tomorrow."  
  
"Isn't it someone else's turn to walk you home?" joked Alex, and Lysander smiled at his jest.  
  
"Technically, I suppose it might, but I'm tired, not drunk, and there is no way I'm asking anyone to go all the way out there and then back home. And since we've been drinking," he smiled, waving a finger at them, "nobody's allowed to stay the night, to protect everyone's virtue. 'Cause Yoba knows I have none of my own. Anyway, hugs for you all."  
  
He went around, offering a hug and a quick peck on the cheek to everyone (except Sebastian, who gave him a look that plainly said "how about NO"), and Elliott was the last to accept the friendly affection, enjoying the pleasant flutter that it produced. He wasn't _interested_ in him, it was simply that Lysander was attractive, and Elliott had missed having physical contact over that last year. That was all.  
  
Lysander departed, followed quickly by the others, but Elliott lingered a moment longer, watching his friend walk away, and noticed that he wasn't the only one.  
  
"Man, I've really gotta work up the courage to try that sober, but then, it wouldn't be as funny. Tough choice," Sam remarked, lacing his fingers behind his head.  
  
Elliott felt that jealous twinge again, perplexing him. "You were actually serious about propositioning him?"  
  
"Why not?" was the shrugged reply, and Elliott couldn't fault him. The offer _had_ been made plainly and openly to everyone, all one had to do was ask. "But that means that you better make a move first if you wanna give him a try, 'cause he claims to be easy but I get the feeling that once he finds someone he's gonna stick with them."  
  
Elliott's confusion changed at this observation. "What do you mean? You think that I have a...physical interest in him? What makes you think that?" He wasn't _denying_ it, but at the same time...  
  
Giving Elliott a thoughtful look, Sam shrugged again and walked off. "Dunno, just saying. You'd be a tough act to follow, but that's only if someone else didn't get there first. G'nite, dude."  
  
Thoughtfully, Elliott considered Sam's words as well as the evening, in addition to the events of the previous day as he walked home. He wasn't interested, damn it! Lysander was a valued colleague and a fellow artist. Any interest that he had was purely professional or an appreciation for skill and beauty. That was it.  
  
...He really was a terrible liar, he couldn't even lie to himself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	25. Hesitant Admissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This chapter took too damn long because I went back and skimmed book 1 to ensure that I'd gotten the right references (and hadn't referenced others too early), and that took bloody well forever, so I'm tired off of my ass with nothing funny to say. Besides, all of the funny happened LAST chapter. I'm going to bed, see you all again on Wednesday. :P//

The breeze from the ocean was cool and edged with salt. Elliott stood at the end of the pier, hands in his pockets and eyes closed as he listened to the wind and felt the waves beneath his feet. That dream again... Not the exact same one, no, but ever since Lysander had danced for them, each night his sleeping mind had reached out for his touch, and so much more. It wasn't that the dreams were unpleasant or unwanted, far from it. He'd been without physical intimacy in quite some time, and it was a situation that he would like to change, but not ever at the cost of the of his friendship.  
  
He was pulled out of his reverie by an enthusiastic greeting from the beach, and turned around to see Lysander waving at him. "Hey mate! Thinking of a swim or something?" he grinned, waiting on the sand.  
  
Returning the smile automatically, Elliott returned to the shoreline. "If I did would you join me? Though I would wait another month, the waters of the bay are still frigid this time of year."  
  
"Nah," Lysander replied, "like you said, it's too cold, and we've got stuff to do."  
  
"Perhaps later, then," Elliott remarked as he led the way back to the cabin.  
  
Resonance went to its customary position before Lysander went to the kitchen to prepare coffee. Back at his laptop, Elliott opened the file they'd been working on and accepted a hot cup, as he'd left the liquid to steep while he'd been outside. Thanking him for it, he took a grateful sip as Lysander sat down on the piano bench.  
  
"I really should bring in a folding chair or something," he noted, "this isn't bad, but I can't quite pull it up to the table next to you or anything."  
  
"Once more I apologize for my severe lack of furnishings. In uncharacteristic shortsightedness I failed to prepare for the possibility of guests."  
  
Shrugging and waving dismissively with one hand, Lysander crossed one ankle over the other as he drank. "It's all good. You had a lot going on, I imagine, and brought only what you knew you'd need. The only reason that I've got any place for someone to sit is because the house came with furniture. You saw what we pulled out of storage. When I got here I had two suitcases and Resonance. I'll be comfortable somehow." He thought of something and giggled, shaking his head.  
  
"Something amuses you," Elliott observed, reclining in his chair.  
  
"Yeah, just, Sam last night. He is such a cuddly drunk, it's adorable. Heck, _he's_ adorable. But light help me I wish he hadn't glomped onto me like that." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head again. Curious (and secretly somehow pleased), Elliott inquired why, and Lysander flashed him the flicker of a grin. "Because to be completely honest? The real reason I excused myself for the restroom? I had to...let off a bit of pressure, so to speak." The frank admission was unexpected, and Elliott was without a reply. "I know, sorry to make you uncomfortable."  
  
"I am not bothered," Elliott laughed, both at himself and his friend, "I completely understand your position, I was simply surprised that you feel comfortable enough around me to admit it. But you said that you wish that he hadn't 'glomped onto you like that.' Was it physical discomfort, being concerned that others would notice your 'reaction' to his act, or something else?"  
  
"It's..." Lysander sighed again and shifted his position, elbows on his knees as he examined the surface of his coffee. "To be honest again, he _is_ cute. Hell, a lot of you are attractive and I'd take anyone of you up on the offer of a good night if it was made. Gods, I would do just about anything for a friend with benefits, but I'm not gonna do that to any of you. You all deserve so much better, and with the shit that made me come out here..." He trailed off and drained his mug, standing up to get another.  
  
Slightly heartened by the admission that Lysander was not only actually entertaining the idea of accepting a proposition of physical intimacy if it was raised, as well as the fact that he did have an interest in several of them, Elliott mentally filed this away as he offered his mug for a refill as well. "There are circumstances that preclude you from pursuing those options."  
  
"Yeah. I mean, I'm cool with just taking care of physical needs and having a good time. Like I said, love and lust are different things for me. But at the same time..." He put down the press and rested his weight on his hands on the edge of the counter. "I also want a proper relationship. I sorta had that with-" He cut off as he stiffened, recalling a bad memory, and Elliott saw him subconsciously brush the choker with his fingers. "Anyway, I'm used to short-term flings and just having a good time. I mean, I did theater for as long as I can remember, and I'm a musician, and you know as well as I do that we're just _full_ of drama. Everyone sleeps with everyone but never gets angsty about it because our schedules and lifestyles often don't really allow for something more serious, and we tend to be pretty open-minded about a lot of things."  
  
Elbow on the arm of his chair and cheek on his fist, Elliott observed his friend carefully, noting how he reacted to their conversation. "However, you are concerned that we are not, and that in such a small community the opportunity for gossip is greatly increased, as well as the potential for any 'drama' to escalate to an unpleasant point."  
  
"Right on point," confirmed the other man with another sigh, pouring the drinks, "a falling-out of ANY sort would completely tear apart the group as it is now, and I will _not_ risk that for a good time."  
  
The slightly distant and sad look, as well as previous conversations made Elliott take another blind stab at the truth. "You don't think that you 'deserve' companionship."  
  
As ever, he was correct in his assumption, and there was a flicker of pain in Lysander's expression before he hid it behind the rim of his mug. "No, I don't. Light burn me, I've been way too open and free with all of you, I need to back the hell off. It may be fun now, but someone is going to muster up the nerve to call my bluff, and it's all going to go to pieces when it does." The pain deepened as he set his jaw firmly and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit, I should never have come here, I'm just going to screw it up for everyone."  
  
The parallels to not only what Sam had remarked the night before, but his own words at the saloon the night before they had met, as well as Lysander's somewhat-hidden remark the first night at the saloon made Elliott think carefully.  
  
_He has been hurt deeply, and despite this pursues happiness, though not without trepidation. This is why I must put aside my own desires and support him instead. I carry loneliness, but he bears pain, and to initiate anything beyond friendship would open up the possibility for more suffering. I will not allow it._  
  
Reaching over, Elliott put a hand on Lysander's, offering a smile of support. "I cannot speak for anyone else, but I, for one, am glad that you are here, and the good that you have already done must surely counter or outweigh that which you left behind. I do not know who hurt you or why, but know that I am here if you need to open up about it."  
  
Lysander was silent, those warm hazel eyes wide and brimming with tears, and Elliott felt a moment of panic, knowing that he'd said the wrong thing, but not what. A small smile, though sad, turned up one corner of Lysander's mouth as he squeezed Elliott's hand in return. "That tells me a lot about you, and why I don't deserve any of you."  
  
Struck dumb himself, Elliott gripped Lysander's hand as he quickly replayed the conversation to find his error. "I- What? I don't understand. Of _course_ you deserve our friendship and the happiness that it brings. What do you mean?"  
  
The smile finally made its way to the other side of his face as well, and he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. "It never once occurred to you that I'm the one that screwed up? That I'm the one that hurt someone else?"  
  
"...No. Not once. Perhaps I am seeing you in an unusually favorable light since I do not know your history, but in the short time I have gotten to know you I find that fact very difficult to believe. Not impossible, no, for people are complex creatures and capable of anything, but I do believe that if you did then you had a good reason for it."  
  
Once more, this was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Lysander gritted his teeth and turned inward on himself, shoulders beginning to shake with held-back sobs. Elliott stood and tried to find something to say, anything, whatever could fix this. Standing, Lysander almost tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but drew back immediately. "You're a good person, you really are. I don't deserve to work next to you. I'm sorry, I'll go."  
  
"What? No! Wait, please." He grabbed Lysander's wrist, hoping that his friend wouldn't try to pull away. "I do not know what it is that I said to cause you such pain, and for both that and those words I am truly sorry. I value your companionship and insight, as well as the ceaseless energy that you always carry. Please tell me how I wronged you so that I can make it right."  
  
Lysander didn't reply immediately, then stepped into Elliott's arms and hugged him around the waist, needing a physical anchor to mentally stabilize himself. "You said nothing wrong. You said all of the _right_ things, technically, and that's what hurts. The truth. You have no idea just how right you are, and I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't tell you. Not now. Light help me, you're probably the kindest person I know, next to-" Once more he cut himself off, biting his lip to hold back further tears.  
  
_...I remind you of a past companion. Someone dear to you that was hurt by your actions. I begin to see why you were drawn to me so quickly, how you feel so comfortable in my presence, and yet still hold me at arm's length._  
  
Returning the hug, Elliott provided Lysander with a source of support, feeling no small amount of self-recrimination for the distress that he'd caused his friend. "I may be kind but apparently I am careless with my words. But make no mistake, they are true and honest. I- _We_ all enjoy your company, Lysander, and all of us are grateful for all that you have done. We are the ones that must ask what we have done to deserve someone like you in our lives. Regardless of your past, it is the 'you' of now that we know, and if you believe none of my other words, then believe these: you _do_ deserve companionship, and we are all better people for having known you."  
  
There was another moment of silence, this time as Lysander thought about what he'd said, then nodded and squeezed Elliott in a firm hug before stepping back. "Yeah, I do. I may not _feel_ that it's true, but I _know_ it is. Thanks. And sorry for being such a mood-killer."  
  
"If apologies need to be offered then they are mine to do so," Elliott replied, picking up and returning Lysander's coffee, "I was the one that steered the conversation into territories that produced bad memories. Let us put them aside until you are ready to discuss them, if ever, and return to better things." He smiled as he retrieved his own mug and took a sip. "We do have a story to build together, do we not?"  
  
That warm, comforting smile returned, and Elliott felt a little silly for enjoying the small butterfly-flutter that it produced. "Yeah, we do. Where did we leave off last time?"  
  
  
After Lysander had departed that evening, Elliott walked outside and sat on the steps to the beach as he dialed Charles, having not talked to him in a little while. The phone on the other end rang twice before it was picked up and answered enthusiastically. "Elliott! So how are you and your new boyfriend doing?"  
  
Elliott could _hear_ the grin on the other end of the phone and sighed, quite sure that Charles could see his expression as well. "You aren't nearly as funny as you think you are."  
  
"Maybe not, but I haven't been able to be a nuisance this badly in quite some time, so forgive me if I'm having a good time doing so. You sound as though you're in good spirits, he's apparently doing good things for you!"  
  
Again, Elliott was not amused by his brother's jesting, and shot back with a barb of his own. "That he is, though I'm getting as much as you have been lately, so not quite _that_ good, I suppose."  
  
At his brother's silence, Elliott grinned to himself. Charles laughed heartily at the riposte. "That was proper savage. I'm impressed! I have no idea who he is, but if he brings this out in you I may need to offer my thanks in person."  
  
"I'd love to see you again, but it is a bit far out here, and you and Jeanette are busy with the baby and- Oh, it's been over a year now, hasn't it? I've quite lost track of time being all the way out here."  
  
"Not a problem!" replied Charles, sounding happy and relieved, "but your _bon mot_ was still accurate."  
  
"As was yours. No, we are not...'together,' we have simply been working in each other's company this last week while collaborating on my novel. He is brilliant, Charles, with such a passion for the arts, and I did not realize his skill until recently. He was with the Grand Company Players until he moved out here."  
  
"The- Really!" the other man exclaimed, well aware of the group and their work, "they get more work at our theater than any other group I can recall, and they always put together an excellent show. The two of you have a surprising amount in common."  
  
Laughing himself, Elliott stood and walked out onto the sand, following the sun, which had moved away and thrown the steps into the shade. "More than you know. Apparently he has followed my written work long before we met. We are fans of each other and didn't know it. Fate is truly a cheeky mistress sometimes."  
  
"But a kind one now and then, if your current state is any indication. It's good to hear from you. I was worried for the longest time until your last call, and you sound even better than you did then."  
  
Sighing, Elliott leaned against one of the awning supports, feeling the latent warmth of the day permeate his back. "Every day I recover, as though I am convalescing from a crippling and near-fatal disease. My strength of body, mind, and spirit are recovering slowly yet steadily." He smiled again as he stared out over the ocean, listening to the muted yet powerful crash and roar of the waves. "This place is exactly what I needed, it just took me a year and the right person to see it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	26. As Situations Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This is annoying. I'm the one that wrote this damn series, but the longest part of writing book 3 is checking book 1 to avoid continuity issues or outright errors. *Facedesk.*//

Work on the novel progressed quickly over the next week. Lysander stopped by every day, and they threw ideas at each other and then into the laptop until late into the evening, or until band practice was set to start, depending on the day. Lysander was always moving about; either gesturing wildly and grandly as he visually depicted what he was trying to describe, or outright getting up to walk around the room as he thought. Now and then he would be taken with a snippet of song and pull Elliott in for a moment of dance, which was accepted immediately as Elliott was glad to have someone who knew what they were doing teaching him. Those moments would always give him the ideas he needed to continue where he'd been stuck (the reason Lysander was up and pacing about in the first place), and as much as he was trying to not be obvious about it, he did enjoy the physical closeness with his friend, but made no effort to push it any further.  
  
A couple of times their writing was interrupted by a musical interlude instead, where Lysander suggested the lyrical spur-of-the-moment writing again like they had the first time he'd visited. These breaks also provided inspiration, as well as a quick break to catch their breath, so to speak, before they returned to writing. Elliott was amazed at how much better he'd become in just this last month, with only Lysander's assistance and practice with the band, but perhaps he'd always had the ability, he'd just never been properly challenged to see it.  
  
They had also taken to "acting" out their parts as they tested them, trying to see if the dialogue and interactions felt natural. Naturally, Lysander donned the mantle of his character and the object of his pursuit, but Elliott took longer to do so. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, he'd just had no stage experience, despite his love of theater and stories. With coaching from his friend, however, he learned how to put his "self" aside and become someone else for a little while, and with this ability to mentally transform he discovered new possibilities about how to write, and of what. This delighted Lysander, pleased with himself that he'd opened up new avenues of approach.  
  
One morning, Elliott greeted him as he walked in, and was curious to see Lysander yawn broadly before he set down Resonance, smiling ruefully. He apologized for it and sat down in the chair next to the table (he'd found a very nice wooden folding chair at his house and brought it over the previous week), asking about where they'd left off the last time. Elliott was already reviewing the work that they'd done the day before for errors and continuity, and remarked upon them. Partway through his explanation, he heard a soft snore, and saw that Lysander was asleep, his head on folded arms.  
  
"Nngh! I'm awake!" he gasped when woken by Elliott's accidental laugh. Turning a little red in embarrassment, he apologized again. "I was up stupidly late last night and Alex ran me pretty hard this morning, so I'm way out of it. Didn't mean to be rude."  
  
"Not at all. May I inquire as to the nature of your insomnia?" asked Elliott as he got up to pour them coffee.  
  
Leaning back in his chair, Lysander grinned lopsidedly. "Well, you're gonna laugh, but..." Elliott promised not to do so and offered a full, hot mug. "I was re-reading your earlier publications."  
  
"Really! I suppose that I should be flattered."  
  
Lysander half-shrugged. "Yeah. They're good, so I wanted to read them again anyway, but I thought that since we're working together on this I should have a better idea of your style so that I can better create alongside it, y'know? Your style did evolve a little bit over time, but one can still tell that it's _you_ , if that makes sense."  
  
"It does. And?" he prompted, sipping delicately.  
  
"And I think this book is still 'you.' It's a bit different, but that's a bit of my influence, and also because you're doing a much larger and more epic story this time around. I just don't know how much help I'll be today at this point, though."  
  
Elliott pondered this and remembered something. "There is something that I learned during my time at university for days like this. Finish your coffee and take about a ten or fifteen minute nap. It will give the caffeine the time to get into your system as well as 'reset' your need to sleep for a little bit. I forget the exact science behind it, but it's something to do with neurotransmitters, blockages, and the like. I regret that I do not recall my biology courses as well as I do my literature studies."  
  
"Oh yeah, I did the same thing a few times," Lysander recalled, tapping a finger to the tabletop, "it's not a magic cure and won't keep you going indefinitely, but it's good for keeping you going until you actually can get the time and place to get real sleep. You don't mind me dropping off for a few?"  
  
"It is better than having you doze off every few minutes," he teased, "please, feel free to use my bed, I will wake you in a quarter of an hour."  
  
Downing the last of his coffee, Lysander exhaled with satisfaction and stood up, not bothering to mask his fatigue. "Thanks, mate. I feel a little weird about borrowing your bed like that, but it's not like you have a couch I can crash on."  
  
Elliott waved him off with a smile. "Shoo! As I said, I will prod you in a little bit. Make good use of the time you have."  
  
The smile that was returned was muzzy but grateful, and Lysander managed to not stagger as he disappeared into the next room. Figuring that a second cup would be welcome upon rising, Elliott finished his own drink and took the mugs to the kitchen to rinse, as well as the press, which he refilled and set aside. He resumed his scan of the previous day's work and only made a couple of small corrections; minor changes to grammar for better structure, or noticing a parsing error when they'd changed the syntax of something that had already been written.  
  
When the fifteen minutes were up, Elliott pushed himself back from the table and felt a small flutter of... He wasn't sure what, to be honest. Not quite contentment or happiness, not excitement. Not satisfaction, either. It was warm and pleasant, but he couldn't put a name to it. Mulling this over, he walked quietly, trying not to wake him, then sighed at himself. He was there to wake him up in the first place! Fool of a man. Lysander was out cold, sleeping on his side with his back to the door, having probably dozed off the moment his weight had hit the mattress. With a touch on his shoulder, Elliott gave him a gentle shake and called his name.  
  
"Hnngh, what's- WAUGH!" Lysander had rolled over in response to Elliott's summons, not realizing that he was pretty much on the edge of the bed, and had fallen off. Not expecting this, Elliott completely missed in trying to catch him, and winced as Lysander nearly cracked his chin on the floor. "Well, I'm awake now."  
  
Offering a hand, Elliott helped him get up. "Are you hurt? I did not intend for-"  
  
"It's all good," laughed the copper-haired man, "it worked. Your idea and falling out of bed. I'm good to go for a few more hours. Caffeine and adrenaline are an interesting mix." He followed Elliott back to the main room and pushed his friend into his computer chair before going to the kitchen to make the next batch of drinks. "I must've REALLY been out of it," he thought aloud as he offered a mug, "I didn't even make a half-assed attempt to flirt and ask you to join me or anything."  
  
Elliott felt his pulse skip at this suggestion but said nothing, as it was clear from Lysander's expression that he had a fair idea of the writer's thoughts. "Perhaps next time," he rebuffed, trying to mimic his friend's attitude, "but I suppose that I would have to take that side so as to prevent you from falling off again."  
  
"So you prefer being the 'big spoon?' Works for me," Lysander grinned, and giggled at Elliott, who wasn't sure how to reply to his turn-around being turned around on him. "Okay, sorry, I'm pushing boundaries. You're not as open as I am about this and I need to back off."  
  
Sighing with good humor, Elliott tapped him on the forehead. "No, you do not. I appreciate your jests. They are helping me, well, break out of my shell, as it were, and I appreciate your unfiltered candor. How many times must I say it? Be _you_. Further, this is the sort of material I need for your character. Now, speaking of such, let us return to building our story."  
  
  
Over the next month they met every day at Elliott's home to collaborate. Elliott found himself almost impatient every morning for Lysander's arrival, but that was simply because he was eager to work on the book with him. That was all! Lysander appeared delighted to be able to be of such great assistance, and Elliott valued his contributions, finding it difficult to not smile at his antics. That laugh, that smile, everything about Lysander's presence was a warm ray of sunshine that brightened the room, and Elliott always felt somewhat diminished when he left at the end of the day. They were colleagues, he kept reminding himself, professionals working together on a project, nothing more...  
  
As Lysander departed one evening, he remarked that he might be unavailable the next day, and Elliott was almost unsuccessful in hiding his disappointment. He had already made exorbitant demands upon the other man's time, it would be extremely rude of him to be offended by him doing something else for a bit. Apparently Lysander had asked Sebastian for lessons in motorcycle riding, and it was possible that the reclusive programmer would have time the next day. Elliott wished him the best of luck and reminded him to be careful, he did worry about his safety. With a playful hug and kiss on the cheek, Lysander promised to do so, waving as he jogged away with Resonance in tow, and didn't see Elliott put fingers to his face and smile.  
  
In the morning, much earlier than he had expected, Elliott received a message, but from Sam.  
  
 **RawkStar:** hey d00d you free today after lunch?  
  
Sighing at Sam's continual lack of punctuation and capitalization, Elliott replied.  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** I should be; Sebastian might be instructing Lysander in the riding of a motorcycle  
  
 **RawkStar:** COOL. i'll stick with my deck instead. anyway i wanted to steal you for a day for some lyrics writing. you have all the words d00d :)  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** as soon as I hear from him I shall update you  
  
 **RawkStar:** sweet thx  
  
Lysander's message came only ten minutes later.  
  
 **SixStrings:** hey, Sebastian’s offered to teach me how to ride that motorcycle. You think you’ll be okay without my help today? :P  
  
With a wry smile, he replied to Lysander's message and prepared a cup of coffee.  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** I suppose that I might be able to discern the usage of a keyboard on my own, yes  
  
 **SixStrings:**  :D  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** in seriousness, Sam messaged a bit ago to work on lyrics this afternoon, so it appears that we both have our own individual sidebars to distract us today  
  
 **SixStrings:** hoopy, the two of you make kickass lyrics, next practice is gonna be fun  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** we will see about that tomorrow. Be safe out there  
  
He switched back to the conversation with Sam, opening the novel document while he awaited the digital affront to his literary senses.  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** he is indeed occupied for the day. When and where do you want to meet?  
  
 **RawkStar:** i'm free now actually. park? we had some good writing there last time and today's gonna be nice  
  
 **SeasideScribe:** I'll pack my laptop and be there presently, then  
  
  
Satchel in hand, Elliott entered the park only minutes after Sam did, as the lead guitarist was still rummaging through his backpack. He looked up and grinned, an expression that was more "electric" than Lysander's "warm," but no less effective. "Sweet, ya made it," he remarked, finally finding his pencil at the bottom of the bag, "this is gonna be awesome."  
  
"I believe that this will be a delightful challenge. I am confident in my ability to write a story, but lyrics are new to me."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Sam cuffed him in the shoulder and opened his notebook. "Whatever! I remember what you just came up with that first day we were all together. Lyrics _are_ a story, dude, and that's why you are gonna come up with some seriously awesome stuff. Aw crap," he sighed, wrinkling his nose at a sudden thought, "I didn't think to ask Lys if I could borrow Resonance. It'd really help, y'know? Oh well, I guess we'll hafta be all _a capella_ today."  
  
Elliott was almost surprised to know that Sam knew that word, but mentally slapped himself. Sam was a musician and a brilliant young man. He was often irresponsible and mischievous, but he wasn't stupid. Bolstered by his friend's confidence, Elliott opened his laptop and then a new document file. "Very well. Let us begin. Where shall we start?"  
  
  
After a few hours of work, Sam stretched his arms over his head and then stood up, bouncing on his toes to work out some pent-up energy. Elliott was saving their latest changes and looking over their work and very nearly dropped his laptop when Sam opened his mouth. "You know, I wasn't kidding, I'm going to make a move if you don't, dude."  
  
"I- I beg your pardon?" Elliott asked, not at all expecting this sort of challenge. Eyeing him with feigned boredom, Sam was for once without a smile or smirk.  
  
"You heard me. I'm not into guys, but at the same time I _am_ kinda curious. If you don't do something soon then I'm going for him myself."  
  
Setting aside the laptop, Elliott tried to figure out if he was actually serious. "I don't understand what you mean. Why would I...?"  
  
With a sigh of patient frustration, Sam laced his fingers behind his head and stared off across the park, explaining it as though it were completely obvious. "I see the way you two look at each other when the other person isn't looking, and especially when you think someone else isn't, either. I mean, he always smiles for everyone, that's just how he is, but when he looks at _you_ , it's...." He wrinkled his nose again as he looked for the right words. "I dunno how to say it. Fondness, I guess? It's like he's always honest about it, but for you it just...it really touches his eyes. Everything kinda lights up and gets softer at the same time. _You're_ the author, I have no idea how to say it." Still caught off-guard by this information, Elliott considered it silently as he pulled up his own memories, and felt a hot jolt of embarrassment as Sam continued. "It's the same way you look at him, y'know. You tell me how it works."  
  
 _What? Preposterous, surely I'd have noticed if he did. ...He does. The smile he shares with them is so completely different than the one he gives to me when we work alone. With others it is radiant, but alone together it illuminates. But, even so.._  
  
"He has stated that he is not pursuing a relationship," Elliott said quietly, "I will not press the issue. Further, he has never stated any interest, so I shall not interpret his intentions as anything more than simply companionable."  
  
Another bored look followed his statement, then a shrug. "If you say so, dude."  
  
  
That evening Elliott cleaned up after making a quick meal, with Sam's thoughts buzzing in his mind. The musician had said some very observant things, but still, Lysander wasn't interested. How could he be? At least, he'd never said anything, and he _had_ said that he wasn't looking.  
  
 _He is honest, brilliant, and, if I am being honest to myself, quite handsome. Of course I would be attracted, who would not? His kindness is endless, his voice always brings joy to those who hear it, and his touch gives strength to others. Over and over he offers all of himself without hesitation, and not once have I heard him complain. Little wonder that I love him._  
  
He dropped the glass he was washing and almost broke it.  
  
 _I... That can't be- I shouldn't..._  
  
Sighing, he allowed himself a small smile.  
  
 _I really do. Light burn me, I didn't mean to, but how could I not?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	27. An End In Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Someone should have taken his own "coffee-and-nap" advice from the other day. Looks like he was just too caught up in it all to remember, and sometimes when you're really deep in a project it's amazing how you lose track of time and totally lose the connection with your "self" that would remind you to sleep, eat, shower, or whatever. :P//

He awoke the next morning wondering about Lysander's condition, as he hadn't heard from him since their messaged conversation the previous morning. Trying not to worry, he showered and dressed as usual, awaiting his friend's arrival. There was no reason to be concerned! It was a small town and they couldn't have gone too far, and if something _had_ gone wrong he'd definitely have heard of it. Of course he would have. He was just being silly, Lysander was just fine.  
  
Trying to swat away the gossiping noise in his head, he very studiously prepared coffee and set about cleaning, even though it didn't need to be done, for the sake of keeping himself occupied with something constructive. The knot of worry in his chest immediately dissolved at the familiar knock and greeting as Lysander let himself in. Elliott set aside the towel and walked over, trying not to show his relief. That warm smile wiped away the last of Elliott's fears, and without really thinking about it, he hugged his friend, who laughed and squeezed him back, asking about his unusual behavior.  
  
"Ah, apologies," he replied, holding him at arm's length and inspecting him for injury, "it is just that I had not heard from you until now, and I had been concerned about your physical health..." He had expected another laugh, or a snarky response, but the smile got softer and lit up the corners ofhis eyes. Oh gods, Sam was right...  
  
"Thanks, I mean it. It hadn't occurred to me that you might be worried about me. Riding can be dangerous, and we took precautions, but sometimes stuff just happens. I should've messaged you to let you know I was okay and coming by like usual."  
  
Lost in that hazel stare for a moment, Elliott was almost slow to reply. "No, there is no fault, I am simply being overprotective. You are your own person, and I am certain that you and Sebastian covered every possibility. Please, sit, I will serve us."  
  
Patting his arm, Lysander walked past him to the kitchen. "How about _you_ sit and I'll pour?"  
  
"Very well, but only if you regale me with your adventures of yesterday," Elliott said, seating himself and opening the laptop.  
  
As he always did, two mugs of coffee were quickly prepared as he talked. "Not a hell of a lot, really. I learned a lot about motorcycles in general, and I'm really glad that I already know how to drive stick 'cause I was able to apply some of that knowledge to riding. 'Bas had a lot of good info and real-world experience that he was able to share so that I don't have to make those mistakes myself."  
  
He handed over one mug and sipped his own as he pulled out the folding chair and sat down. "I'll need another round or two of lessons to be really comfortable, but I like it already, and I think I've got enough income to put some aside for a bike of my own. What I wouldn't give for that freedom." His eyes crossed a little as he turned his thoughts inward, then grimaced. "I'll have to put a lot aside, now that I think about it. I'm larger than he is, so I'll probably need something with a greater level of displacement, and I've also got to consider safety gear, too. Looks like I've got a lot of research to do." He returned his gaze back to Elliott, giving the writer a soft flutter of contentment. "I'll have to have you ride passenger one of these days, if you're comfortable with that sort of thing. Get out for a little while, right?"  
  
He hadn't expected this offer, and while the prospect of riding was somewhat scary, at the same time it sounded exhilarating. "I...would like that very much. It's been far too long since I went anywhere."  
  
As if it were a promise sealed, Lysander grinned again. "Great! That's still in the future, but for now, you said the other day that you think you're almost done with your book?"  
  
Elliott lit up with excitement at the reminder and clutched the mug in both hands. "Yes! I was too busy yesterday with Sam to compose anything new, but I know what needs to happen. With your assistance I will-" He cut off as he realized something; what would happen _after_ the story was done?  
  
Seeing the energy suddenly vanish and a look of sadness take its place, Lysander put a hand on his wrist. "Hey, what's up? Is it not going the way you want it to?"  
  
"It isn't that, it's... What happens after it's finished?" He stared at the floor, now feeling cold as the enthusiasm drained away and left him empty.  
  
"After it's- What?"  
  
"When I complete my novel," Elliott replied softly, "what then? What will you do?"  
  
Confused, then understanding, Lysander laughed and set both of their drinks aside to hold Elliott's hands in his own. "Then I'll just work with you on the next one. You _do_ plan to write another book, don't you?" Elliott's reaction of relief and wonder made him laugh again. "Did you really think that I'd just walk away after this was done? This was brilliant! I haven't had this much fun in ages, and I've never been able to create anything this great before. I mean, it's _your_ creation, I'm just helping, but still, I'll do it again if I have the chance." Leaning over from his chair, Elliott hugged him again, and Lysander sighed and shook his head fondly. "You really were worried. That's why I'm sticking around, you know, you really are a good person, and I want to support you."  
  
_Light burn me, I want to tell you everything, to ask you to stay by my side even longer, to be more than just a companion. But in a strange way, I am glad that I lack the courage to do so, because even more terrifying than the thought of you leaving is the thought of you pushing me away._  
  
Feeling relieved in a fashion, Elliott sat back comfortably in his chair. "Thank you. I feel clingy and selfish in asking you to work alongside me again, but I could not have done this without your input."  
  
"No worries!" The smile was bright and cheerful, and Lysander took a long drink from his mug. "There's not a hell of a lot more I can do on the farm at the moment, as everything is kinda self-sufficient, and I'm not sure how I can expand my operation without stretching myself and my resources too thinly. Like I said, this was fun, and if you've got more ideas, I want to hear them. Do you-" He laughed again and tilted his head to the side, wearing that gentle smile that melted Elliott completely. "Do you have any idea what a dream it's been to meet someone whose work I've read? And then being able to work _with_ them? This has been amazing and I wouldn't trade it for anything."  
  
"I cannot express my full thanks. Perhaps one day I will have the words and means to do so."  
  
"Then for now let's use what words we do have and get this finished!" Lysander grinned, shifting his chair closer to the laptop, "I love the twist you're pulling at the end. It totally fits with everything that's been set up and still comes as a surprise."  
  
Talking back and forth as Elliott typed, they worked until it was time to leave for practice, and very reluctantly, Elliott saved their work and got up. Lysander's touch on his arm was reassuring; it wasn't as though this was the last time they'd work on it, they also had tomorrow. He packed his satchel and followed, thinking as they walked, and Lysander didn't bother him, giving him the mental space he needed.  
  
A lot of it was required, apparently, as Elliott was somewhat distant all evening. Not absent-minded or ignoring anyone, but if something didn't require his direct attention he scribbled quick notes on the pad of paper that he always kept on hand. Nobody minded this, as they were mostly figuring out the new vocals, which involved Lysander and Sam for the most part. His skill as a writer had translated well into lyric-writing; what he had written with Sam the day before had come out quite well, and not only was Lysander was suitably impressed, the general consensus was that it was what they were looking for. The two strings players sounded excellent together, and the lyrics not only fit their vocal style but the musical one that they were trying to cultivate as well. They were on their way to being professionals!  
  
As they broke up for the night Elliott made up his mind to finish the story as soon as he got home. He was almost finished with it, he was _so close_! After all of these years, after this _last_ year, he could feel his triumph just a finger's breadth away. He was still wide awake, and the sudden adrenaline rush would surely keep him going until he was done. The first one to leave for once, he offered Lysander a quick hug before rushing out the door, grinning at the playful warning to "be sure to get _some_ sleep tonight!" Ha! He would sleep when this was finished and not a moment sooner.  
  
Closing the door behind him but not locking it, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and hung it over the back of his chair, opened the laptop again, then went to the kitchen for coffee. It was going to be a long night, but damn it, he was ready! With his drink at the ready, he sat down at his chair and typed quickly, glancing at the notepad now and then, and only pausing to consider the wording of a phrase or to be certain that particular character interactions flowed correctly. Leaning back in his chair to re-read something, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, needing the slight freedom it offered. A little while later he got up for another cup of coffee, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He really did need a shower, but that would wait, he was very nearly finished!  
  
He was startled by the first rays of daylight through the window and glanced at the clock in his taskbar. It was morning already? Where had the time gone? No matter, it was time well-spent, and the book was nearly complete, he just needed to work a little longer. Rubbing at his bleary eyes, he rested his weight on his arms as he scrolled through the last few pages, checking a few things. It took a few minutes to realize that he'd read those pages several times and didn't remember it any of those times. Damn, he was getting fuzzy, another cup of coffee should do it...  
  
Feeling a soft touch on his arm, Elliott woke up, startled and confused. A glance at the taskbar again showed that it was a couple of hours later, as evidenced by Lysander's arrival. He couldn't stifle a broad yawn, and massaged the bridge of his nose, piecing together his thoughts as he blinked away the meager sleep he hadn't intended to get.  
  
“Mmm, it appears that I dozed off. Damn. Good afternoon, Lysander.”  
  
Lysander looked relieved that Elliott wasn't ill or injured, but also annoyed at him. “Did you get any rest after practice last night?”  
  
Shaking his head, Elliott sat up properly in his chair and winced at a crick in his neck. “I did not, as I am in the final stretch of finishing my novel. With the end in sight, I seek its light, illumination at the end of the tunnel.” This produced a moment of introspection and a self-effacing laugh. “Even in my current state I am given to moments of poetry.”  
  
Now looking relieved but stern, Lysander put a hand on his arm again. “Lovely. Get your ass to bed and get some sleep, you can finish it later.”  
  
“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary," Elliott replied, amused at Lysander's reaction, "just a little more work and I can rest.”  
  
Lysander doubted this openly, knowing that Elliott would toil himself to sickness in this pursuit, and reminded him that it would be best to return to it later once he was better rested. Once again, Elliott turned down his offer, claiming that he simply required more coffee, but this was unconvincing, as he had to hastily grab for the edge of the table after a sudden wave of drowsiness almost made him drop the mug that he'd just picked up. Taking away the mug, planting a fist angrily on one hip, and gesturing without ambiguity, Lysander told him in no uncertain terms that he was to get some sleep, right now!  
  
Sighing, Elliott offered him a polite smile. "I have work to do," he explained, wondering why Lysander didn't understand, "I will sleep when it is complete." Lysander shot back that he would make him, and Elliott called his bluff. "I doubt that, now if you- Gah!"  
  
It wasn't a bluff, and Lysander had no patience left for his exhausted companion, leaning down to grab him around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder. Confusion and embarrassment had a quick argument for dominance, refereed by astonishment, as Elliott tried to process a reply while Lysander strode to the bedroom. "Lysander! Put me down, this is quite unbecoming," he demanded, and when Lysander agreed, he had no time to question it, as his vision suddenly took in the floor, the wall, then the ceiling in one smooth arc before the mattress creaked loudly as Lysander roughly dropped him onto his bed. Struggling to a sitting position, he glared at his friend. "If you are done with being domineering I have work to-"  
  
Again he was interrupted, this time when Lysander put a hand in the middle of his chest and firmly shoved him back down. "No you _don't_. You need rest, and I'm going to wait here until you go to sleep. You’re almost as stubborn as I am and will work yourself to exhaustion if I don’t do something about it. I’m your friend, and I’m looking out for you. Now quit being a pillock about it.”  
  
This aggressive and dominant side of Lysander was unusual, and, Elliott had to admit, rather arousing, but he was of a rather single mind of the moment and put that thought from it. However, before he could offer up another argument or protestation of complete cognizance, he yawned again. He dropped back against the pillows and sighed at himself, knowing that it was futile to resist any further. With a quirk of his lips in a weak smile, he agreed with Lysander's assessment that yes, he was tired, but that didn't justify him being so forceful about the entire thing.  
  
With a posture that clearly lacked any sort of humor, Lysander sat down next to him. "Really? Can you say that you wouldn't do the same for me if our roles were switched?" Considering this, Elliott replied that he could not, and the fierce hazel stare became warm and gentle again as he squeezed Elliott's shoulder supportively, two actions that made Elliott's pulse quite erratic for a few moments. "You know I'm right," he said, with a smile to take away the edge, "I understand, I really do, that drive to finish something when you’re _just so close_ , but you also know that you might make errors while tired that could compromise the entire project.”  
  
Reaching up, Elliott wrapped his fingers around his friend's, barely able to keep his eyes open. He agreed with Lysander's opinion and position, and was asleep before he could finish his thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	28. Endings and Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I keep forgetting to add chapter titles here, even thought I remember for the SDV forums. Well, I remembered this time, whoo! And Elliott, you sweet, romantic man. Lysander deserves you so much. :)//

It was dark outside when he woke again, and looked around, trying to figure out why he was in bed, still fully dressed. The last that he remembered was-  
  
That’s right, he’d been working on finishing his novel, and he’d dozed off. Then Lysander arrived and insisted that he go to bed for a while. Apparently his friend had been thoughtful enough to make sure that he was comfortable, as he also didn’t remember pulling that blanket over himself. Smiling at the thought and feeling a pleasant warmth, he stood up and returned to the other room to get his phone. A quick glance at the time showed that it was very early in the morning. Also, the battery was very nearly dead, so he plugged it into his laptop for power, and, since he was already there, had a look at what he had been working on before his enforced nap. He had intended to go shower and clean himself up, but he wanted to fix this bit here. And add this there. Hmm, the next part was supposed to go like this, and…  
  
Once more he lost himself in his work, and for the next few hours wrote without pause, feeling the adrenaline of literary triumph just within his grasp. Then, it was done. He sat back and ran a hand through his hair, exhausted yet elated.  
  
 _It is complete. For so long I have dreamed and toiled, and now, oh light, now it is done. It staggers belief, and I hesitate to think too hard or pinch myself, in the case that this is all a dream._  
  
With shaking hands, he saved his work, then exported it as a PDF to review in a few minutes. After a moment of consideration he also saved both files to his external storage, just in case. A polite knock at the door made his heart skip with anticipation.  
  
“Hey, I’m here- The hell! You still haven’t changed?!” Lysander asked as he walked in, and Elliott greeted him with delight, clearly wearing it, getting up to greet him. Lysander was getting wound up with irritation. “Don’t tell me you- Ah!” He was cut off as Elliott hugged him under the arms and spun them about, unable to contain his sheer jubilation.  
  
“It’s finished! Lysander, I’ve done it, and it would not have been possible without you.” Whatever the other man was going to say was forgotten and he matched the writer’s grin, asking if he could have a look. “Go right ahead, I had just saved a PDF copy when you walked up. And you were correct, I did need that rest. I slept the entire day and woke this morning with a fire in my heart and lightness in my fingers.”  
  
The musician got comfortable in the recently-vacated chair, remarking that he had an idea of what it was all about from their work together, but had not yet read it all the way through. His smile of contentment as he read gave Elliott another flush of warmth. In the kitchen, he made a quick cup of coffee for Lysander, as he needed to bathe quite badly, and would likely be at it long enough that a cup for himself would be cold. Setting it next to him, he got polite thanks for it, but it was out of courteous reflex.  
  
“I require a shower, will you need anything else before I disappear for a little while?” Lysander once again replied reflexively, but it was also clear that he wasn’t listening. This was probably the best compliment that his work could receive, and he entered his bedroom after retrieving his waistcoat from the back of the chair.  
  
As he undid the line of buttons down the front of his shirt, he blushed as he realized that he’d left the bedroom door open. He’d lived there alone so long that it hadn’t been necessary, and he recalled their banter that one morning…  
  
No, it would be inappropriate to ask that of Lysander. Yes, he was attractive, and had openly offered for anyone interested, and Elliott was most definitely interested, but… He shook his head at himself as he quietly closed the bedroom door and continued undressing. Lysander had also stated that he was not ready for a relationship! Besides, even if the door _was_ open as an invitation, it would go unnoticed, as Lysander was completely immersed in their story.  
  
…Their story…  
  
He paused in the middle of removing his earrings in the bathroom at this thought. It wasn’t just his story. They had spent weeks together every day, and every page was filled with words that the both of them had supplied. He could not have done it alone. Running the shower to start the water flowing, he placed the silver rings on the sink and stepped into the shower, enjoying the tingle of hot water on his skin. As he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, he sighed to himself, inhaling the steam gratefully.  
  
 _A pity that I must do this alone. After so long sitting in that chair I would welcome someone to help get to a few places that ache._  
  
This thought produced another flush of embarrassment, but only momentarily.  
  
 _Damn it, I cannot push him from my mind. Light help me, what I would not give to have him in here with me. Long have I wanted to know and see more of him. I desire him, I admit that freely to myself now, and will give anything to have more than just the friendly touch I have only known so far. I need him._  
  
There was something else that he needed, or at least wanted, given his reaction to these thoughts, which got significantly more intimate. A few minutes later, feeling quite a bit more relaxed, he took his time to shower, and after rinsing off the last of the soap, toweled himself off before stepping over to the sink to shave.  
  
 _It must be done. I will tell him everything. I will hide myself and my feelings no longer._  
  
Finally finished, he rinsed off and set aside the razor, putting the earrings back on as he opened the closet and found fresh garments. It was such a refreshing feeling to finally wear something clean after the last couple of days. He could have stopped to bathe and change, yes, but never before had he felt the uncontrollable urge to finish something like that. Buttoning the shirt and tucking it tidily into his trousers, he shrugged into the waistcoat and entered the main room again, getting to the ones on his cuffs as Lysander tried to drink from an empty mug and chuckled at himself.  
  
“Okay, wow, that is really good, I just got pulled in. You really know how to- You got changed.”  
  
“I _did_ mention that I was going to get cleaned up while you read, but my words fell upon deaf ears,” Elliott replied as he did the last of the buttons on his waistcoat, “normally I would find that irritating but now it is flattering.”  
  
Stretching as he stood, Lysander chuckled again. “And apparently you got me a coffee as well. I don’t remember that. Well, I think that that speaks highly of your work.”  
  
 _No more hesitation, no more fears. I can do anything with him at my side._  
  
Elliott began to speak but suddenly found himself unsure of what to say. “Speaking of, well, speaking, I…” Lysander asked him if there was something he was thinking of, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. Becoming a little flustered, Elliott tried to press on. “Yes. Well, that is, there is something with which I would like to discuss with you.”  
  
That warm smile returned and nearly derailed Elliott’s train of thought. “You’re being awfully hesitant today, what’s up?”  
  
After another failed start, he cleared his throat and found what he thought were the words that he needed. “I no longer wish to be friends.” The moment that the words left his lips he knew that he had said exactly the wrong thing the wrong way, and the look of hurt on Lysander’s face as he backed away into the table cut him more deeply than anything else than he’d ever known. “No, not like that, I-”  
  
Lysander interrupted him and looked away. “Ah, it’s no worry, I’ve been a bit of-”  
  
 _This is all going wrong! I cannot lose him!_  
  
He cut off his friend’s protest with a hug, now terrified to let him go. “Light burn me, _no_. Not _just_ friends, _more_ than that. I… I need you.” He felt Lysander stiffen in his grip, and his own fingers did the same into his back, terrified that he would continue saying exactly the wrong thing. “Just give me a moment, hear me out and then you can say anything, but I need to say this before I lose my nerve. You gave me a second chance. You gave me hope. You brought a light into my life that I had never seen before, and like a moth to a flame I am irrevocably drawn to it, and I care not if I get burned. Your energy, your passion, your kindness… It awoke in me a desire to be so much more than I was. You became my muse, my inspiration, and every day I awaited your arrival with anticipation. I realize that you said before that you are not pursuing a relationship and I respect that, but at the same time I cannot hide this any longer. I want to be at your side, to support you, to share everything with you.”  
  
Having said everything that he possibly could, he waited breathlessly and with a racing pulse for an answer.  
  
“Elliott… I can’t…”  
  
 _Oh gods, no. I have completely miscalculated. I was wrong. Light burn me, I was wrong._  
  
Releasing him, Elliott stepped back, now feeling the cold pain dig in even deeper and more sharply, almost dizzy from its effects. “Ah, my apologies, you did say that-”  
  
“It’s not that-” Lysander cut in, but Elliott could only think of how badly he had failed.  
  
 _I know not what to do now. I will not cast him out, yet I cannot stay here. All that we have done together has been shattered because I was too greedy and desired too much._  
  
“Forgive me, I was too forward,” he said, about to turn and leave, when Lysander snarled and grabbed him firmly by the collar with both hands.  
  
“No, you fool, I love you!” There was a moment of silence as both of them realized what had just happened. The cold pain changed, from despair to hope, and Elliott tentatively reached for Lysander’s hand. The other man shook his head, trying to find his own words as he brushed out the wrinkles that he’d made in Elliott’s collar. “It’s your turn to listen. I don’t want you to get hurt. I have fire, yes, and it’s too strong, I can’t control it. My last relationship… We… We had an argument, and both of us lashed out at each other. We were angry and frustrated. But I did so with the intent to hurt. I’ve never done that before. I wanted to cause pain in retaliation for what I felt, against the person I claimed to love and protect. I can’t let that happen to you. I _won’t_ do that to you.”  
  
 _Yet again your concern is not for yourself but for me. You are trying so hard to keep me away. You fear for me, that you could cause me irreparable pain. Let me comfort you._  
  
With a hesitant smile, Elliott reached out to him, fingers on his shoulder, scared that Lysander would push him away. “I’m not a delicate flower,” he laughed softly, “this rose has thorns. I am strong enough to stand up both for and to you. Do you really think I will simply allow someone to strike or shout at me without provocation and let it go?” Still unable to meet his eyes, Lysander offered a counter-argument, that he’d hurt Alex when they had fought, and Elliott rebuffed that it didn’t mean that there was a pattern. “You are not the sort to stay angry at someone for long, and given your regret over what happened with your last companion and how quickly you resolved issues with Alex I know that anything that causes you anger enough to harm someone is both serious and nothing that cannot be mended.”  
  
 _Let me support you._  
  
Lysander still looked away, though he didn’t pull away. “There’s a first time for everything. What happens if I get angry and selfish over something dumb and try to take it out on you?”  
  
“Then we will resolve it once we are calm enough to discuss it like rational adults,” Elliott reassured, “you are causing yourself worry and pain over one moment in your past, one that is not likely to repeat itself. Do not let it hold you back and prevent you from being happy.”  
  
 _Let me stand by you._  
  
Those warm hazel eyes finally met Elliott’s and were wide with wonder. “You’re not scared?”  
  
Elliott reached over with his other hand, gently tracing it down Lysander’s cheek, fearing that he’d never be able to do it again. “Only of being unable to tell you just how much you mean to me.”  
  
 _Let me love you._  
  
One thing that he would always say, for years after, was that one of the things that he loved most about Lysander was the way he always surprised him. At this moment he had expected a smile, and had hoped for a hug. But what he wasn’t expecting was for him to step forward, knot his fingers tightly in his hair, dig his fingers into his back, and kiss him with a level of passion that almost left him weak in the knees. Everything about his touch spoke of possession and desire.  
  
 _Oh gods. This is more than I had ever imagined. This fire, this warmth… I am both consumed and invigorated._  
  
Clutching him for support, Elliott lost himself in Lysander’s touch, feeling light-headed from relief and the somewhat euphoric effect of the kiss he almost hoped wouldn’t end. All things must end, however, and when Lysander finally pulled away to let him breathe, Elliott found himself almost unable to form a coherent thought, only commenting on Lysander’s skill, which produced a satisfied smirk.  
  
“I’ve had a lot of practice. That’s… It isn’t a problem, is it? My history? You know you aren’t my first.”  
  
Again, his concern was for someone else! Elliott smiled with contentment. “As long as I am your last.”  
  
Sighing with relief, Lysander sagged into Elliott’s arms, head on his shoulder, and promised that he was. His silence was only temporary, though, as he once again surprised Elliott by growling and nibbling the side of his ear with a somewhat feral grin. “ _Mine._ ”  
  
Elliott laughed and hugged him even tighter. “Yes, I am yours, all of me.”  
 _  
I was right. Love is something to which he devotes himself completely. I shall do the same, for he deserves nothing less. I swear that I will protect him at all costs. Oh, and now that I remember…_  
  
“And you don’t have to be afraid of being a bit physical with me when displeased,” remarked Elliott, “you have already done so once.”  
  
Blinking, Lysander tried to remember the incident in question. “When did- Oh, the community center. I’m _still_ a bit miffed at you for that, you know.”  
  
“Then I will apologize until you forgive me.” Gently, he moved the collar of Lysander’s shirt to kiss his neck, and smiled at the small shudder of pleasure it produced. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Huffing a mock sigh of irritation, Lysander smiled back at him and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t stay angry at you. Fine, you’re forgiven. Sorry for slapping you. Though I feel like we’re forgetting something- Ah! The community center!”  
  
The both of them had completely lost track of the time and would be late for band practice if they didn’t leave right then. Lysander grabbed Resonance and didn’t even touch the stairs as he dashed out the door. In a similar hurry, Elliott closed the laptop with one hand and snatched the satchel with the other, pulling the door hastily shut behind him. As he ran up, about to call out to Lysander to slow down, the other man stopped, then grabbed his hand.   
  
“Keep up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	29. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I wrote most of this while waiting for my car to be repaired after a semi truck sniped my radiator with a well-placed rock shard, causing the entire coolant system to vent itself all over the highway inside of two miles. It was a long repair. This is a long chapter. It's been a long day. XD//

Elliott didn’t have the stamina that Lysander did, and anyway, the other man was carrying the guitar, so the fiery musician was forced to slow down to a brisk walk. They weren’t running that far behind on time, but Lysander was still wound up with relieved energy, and Elliott had to keep reminding him to slow down a bit.  
  
“It appears that I was not the only one who was worried,” Elliott said, tugging at his partner’s hand again playfully, earning a grin.  
  
“I’ve been terrified since yesterday. After you finally went to sleep I went to talk to Sebastian. He put a boot in my ass and just told me to get on with it, and y’know, I’m glad that he did. But no lie, my heart was pounding so loud on the bridge over the river that I was sure you could hear it from your table.”  
  
Laughing at the mental image, Elliott nudged him as they walked. “Sam more or less said the same thing, though there was less altruism in his efforts.” At Lysander’s noise of curiosity, Elliott chuckled as he thought back to the conversation in question. “The general gist of it was that if I didn’t approach you soon then he would, though I still am uncertain as to how serious his intentions were.”  
  
It was Lysander’s turn to laugh, and that bright, cheerful sound gave Elliott a satisfying rush of warmth. “I genuinely have no idea, either. He’s a spiky-haired troll most of the time, but he’s remarkably honest about himself and what he wants. Well, I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t try, because I bet he’d be a lot of fun, but you…” He squeezed Elliott’s hand as his smile became fond, one that Elliott knew only he would see. “You’re brilliant. I owe you so much, and it’s going to take a long time just to tell you how much.”  
  
A little while later they arrived at the community center and saw that everyone else was already present. With a quirk of a smile Sebastian commented that it had taken them long enough, for which Lysander apologized, as it was a rather distant walk from Elliott’s home. Giggling happily, Abigail corrected the direction of the innuendo, and Elliott hastily released Lysander’s hand, slightly embarrassed that their relationship had already been accidentally announced. As usual, Sam couldn’t resist the urge to tease, and his grin and hand gestures of a descriptive sort gave a very good indication of the reason he thought that they had been late. To Elliott’s surprise, Lysander bristled and growled at this, but glanced over at him when Elliott gently put a hand on his shoulder, and after a dark look at his antagonist, put his hand over Elliott’s and nodded.  
  
As Lysander retrieved the keys to the community center, Haley got to her feet and remarked that previously they had simply been “cute” together, but they were now “adorable,” and Elliott once again flushed in embarrassment. He hadn’t expected to make this public so soon! Lysander didn’t seem to care, and turned to Sebastian, who was about to follow Haley and Alex inside, remarking that there was chalk dust on his hoodie. There didn’t seem to be anything there, as that would show up starkly against the black of his garment, but Elliott surmised that this must have been a joke to which he’d not been privy, as the dark-haired man reacted in a manner similar to his own a bit earlier. Abigail did as well, and Elliott smiled to himself; apparently he and Lysander were not the only ones who had found companionship recently.  
  
The others filed in, and Lysander waited a moment for Elliott. The writer took his hand, savoring the simple physical contact he had long desired.  
  
  
After a few hours of dedicated practice Lysander suggested a quick break, and Elliott sympathized with his and Sam’s need to rest; piano wasn’t nearly as demanding as bass or guitar. A new arrival grabbed their attention as Lewis let himself in. He was carrying a small box, and upon being asked what it contained, set it on a table and opened it, revealing a very large collection of photographs. At a glance one could see that there were pictures both old and new, many possibly older than anyone in the room, save for Lewis.  
  
They converged on the box and its contents, and some of the newer ones caught Lysander’s attention. He took one, looking at it quizzically. “That’s odd, I would have thought that-” Gasping, he staggered back as he dropped it, and Elliott felt a sympathetic jab of pain at his look of shock. Sam found humor in the moment as he picked it up, not yet comprehending the reason for his friend’s distress, asking aloud and with a snarky grin if it was related to his arachnophobia. With stiff shoulders and held breath, Lysander was clearly trying not to break down, and having seen the photo in question, Elliott knew why. He’d not seen it before, but Lysander had previously described that moment; the last time that he’d performed his song for his grandfather.  
  
 _You’re not alone. You no longer have to bear this pain by yourself. I will support you and stand by your side._  
  
Gently putting an arm around his waist, he hugged him lightly, which seemed to be exactly what Lysander needed. Lewis sighed, retrieving the picture and examining it with a strange sort of sad happiness. “I was trying to find that before you did. Your parents sent this and a few others to me after Lex passed. It’s strange but satisfying to have a record of my friend’s entire life and legacy. I’m glad to see one of us found true happiness.”  
  
Alex seemed interested now, asking if his name really had been “Lex,” and Lysander confirmed it, having gained control of himself. “Short for ‘Alexander,’” he replied with a smile, “apparently we’re big on giving large names and then using extremely short nicknames. I’d have mentioned it sooner but I didn’t want it to be awkward.”  
  
Shrugging, Alex said that he didn’t mind, it was just a coincidence, and a funny one at that. Lewis was lost in his own thoughts as he replied without thinking about it. “Not really. Clara did say that she named you after her favorite uncle.” Everyone was familiar with the phrase “so quiet that you could hear a pin drop,” but until that moment had never actually seen it happen. The first to break the silence, Lysander commented that there was quite a bit that he wanted to ask. Frowning thoughtfully, Lewis tried to recall how that particular family tree branched. “Let’s see, Alex, you’re Clara’s boy, and she was Evelyn’s daughter. And Lysander, your mother is Lynn, and her father was Emmett, Evelyn’s brother.”  
  
The stunned, curious silence again descended, and once more was dispelled by the perplexed musician. “Half a moment, Alex and I are cousins?” This was also confirmed, but it didn’t answer everything. “Wait, if I’m related through mom then how was grandpa her ‘favorite uncle?’ He was from my dad’s side.”  
  
“He was always an uncle of sorts to everyone their age when your parents were growing up,” Lewis replied, which only partially clarified things, “and when Lynn and Art- short for Arthur, since I know that someone will ask- got married he ended up being related that way. Clara was quite fond of him, and he enjoyed taking care of Art’s friends and watching after them. A large number of people in town spent their childhoods playing on his farm. Though Art and Clara’s husband didn’t get along at all. The first time they met they got into a rather nasty fistfight and Art put him on the ground.”  
  
Lewis jumped in surprise as Lysander erupted into hearty laughter, holding onto Elliott for support. Remarking that history seemed to repeat itself in unusual ways, Elliott again put an arm around him, as Lysander was barely able to stand on his own as he wheezed for breath. It was now Lewis that needed explanations, and Alex gave a summary of their first encounter, hastily clarifying that it had been resolved when Lewis looked ready to ask something.  
  
Elliott lost his grip on Lysander as his legs completely gave out, and he dropped to the floor, giggling fit to burst, and wincing at a cramp that his hilarity had produced. “Can’t breathe… Oh, by the light… It hurts…”  
  
They looked through and talked about some of the pictures for quite some time, and everyone was surprised by how closely the men in Lysander’s family resembled each other. Elliott could definitely see Lynn’s influence in him as well, especially once Lysander brought out his own photos from his phone. He also noticed the similarity with Alex and his mother, and Haley voiced the same opinion, though the athlete looked unusually somber about this. Now that Elliott thought about it, Lewis had said that Alex’s mother “ _was_ ” Clara, where Lysander’s mother “ _is_ ” Lynn.  
  
…Oh…  
  
Lysander piped up with something funny that Elliott missed in his introspection, but Alex hadn’t, and he laughed in reply. “You are weird, bro. No, wait,” he said, thinking about it more, “I guess I should call you ‘cuz’ from now on, hunh?” The family resemblance, even removed as it was, showed up in the matching smiles.  
  
“You know, I think I’d like that.”  
  
  
That evening, having put aside practice to sit down with the photos and their accompanying stories, the band and Lewis left the community center. Alex left first, and Lysander appeared to want to talk to him, but not in front of the rest of the group. He had seemed a little distant, and Elliott had a fair idea of why, as well as why Lysander wanted to reach out to him.  
  
Leaning against the wall as Lysander closed and locked the door, Elliott relaxed. The air was still warm from the early-summer sun, stirred by a light breeze. “So it appears that we are an ‘us’ now,” he asked, enjoying both the weather and this thought, “are you comfortable with that?”  
  
Arms around his Elliott’s waist, Lysander smiled back. “Of course I am. The reason I wasn’t chasing a relationship previously is because I didn’t want to risk any of the friendships I had here, and even if I was, I still had a few issues to work out. I still do, but, well, you already addressed one of the big ones.” He sighed and leaned into Elliott, continuing that for a while now he’d had interest, but not only was he not sure if it was mutual, who would want someone with his past? Who would trust him?  
  
With gentle fingers, Elliott traced the lines of Lysander’s face. “Then perhaps you can give me credit for looking past that and seeing all of your other qualities. You’re not as ‘easy’ as you claim to be, and your penchant for flirting is just you expressing your love for others.” He hugged him tightly for a moment, unable to hold back his own affection. “I admit to being selfish in wanting to keep some of that love just for myself, something that no one else has.” Lysander playfully offered to give him anything that was asked, but modified it with “within reason,” and Elliott’s smile got a little more daring. “Then I must consider my requests carefully. But for now, my only desire is to feel your touch again.”  
  
As he leaned in, he paused to blink when Lysander murmured, “I wonder what flavor of lip gloss you prefer.” Lysander clearly realized how silly and nonsensical it must have sounded and explained that it was a story for later.   
  
_My enigmatic, brilliant flame, you always surprise me. Could anyone fault me for wanting you for my own?_  
  
“I do not know what the context for this is,” he replied with a teasing smile, “but I am quite partial to strawberries, although you are a bit more ginger. Regardless, the taste I want right now is that of you.”  
  
It was just as good as the first time. Not as desperate, a little more tender, and this time Elliott needed to support his partner. He held on as long as he could, unwilling to let go, to let this moment end. Lysander was the one to pull away again, sighing, lamenting that as pleasant as it was, it would always have to end.  
  
“Then you can simply look forward to our next encounter,” Elliott suggested, and Lysander agreed with a happy smile, glancing south. He needed to go find his cousin and see what was bothering him. Encouraging this, Elliott hugged him again, and Lysander promised to visit again the next day. “I look forward to our next encounter,” quipped the writer, and that bright laugh that it brought warmed him more than the remaining rays of sunlight ever could. That warmth faded a little with the departure of Lysander’s touch as they left in different directions.  
  
Elliott didn’t remember walking home, and looked around with surprise when he reached the bridge, stirred from his thoughts by the sudden change in scenery. He considered walking out to the pier to stand by the ocean for a bit, but saw that Alex was already doing the same. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, Elliott sighed at himself when he remembered that he’d left it plugged into his laptop and hadn’t taken it with him when they had left. The satchel was set down by the table as he unplugged and picked up the phone to dial Lysander.  
  
The call was answered with the musician’s usual cheeky cheer. “Hey, couldn’t wait to hear the sound of my voice again?”  
  
Elliott couldn’t help but smile and leaned against the table. “As much as I’d like for that to be the reason for reaching out to you right now, I actually have information that is useful to you.” Upon being asked what it was, Elliott glanced out the window to be sure that things hadn’t changed. “Alex is out at the pier. I’ve not talked to him, but he does not appear likely to wander off any time soon.” Lysander was at Alex’s house, where apparently he had gone before departing again without telling anyone anything, so this intel was quite welcome.  
  
“Thanks, love,” Lysander replied, and Elliott felt that same nervous but delighted flutter he’d felt the first time that they’d touched.  
  
“Already using terms of endearment?” he laughed, “perhaps I need to find something suitable in return.” Lysander was curious to see what Elliott would think of and thanked him again, replying that he would be on his way, and Elliott offered aid should it be needed.  
  
Hanging up, Elliott shut off the lights as he walked to the bedroom and set the phone on the bedside table as he undid the buttons on his waistcoat and let himself idly recall the events of the day. He had finished undoing his shirt when it all finally hit him, and he sat down heavily on the bed. After a moment of silent contemplation, he grabbed his phone again and called his brother.  
  
“Elliott! How are you?” asked Charles, sounding glad to see him, “It’s been a month or so, hasn’t it?”  
  
“…It’s finished…”  
  
“Elliott? Are you alright?”  
  
Feeling tears start to run down his face, Elliott rested his arms on his knees as he smiled, feeling overwhelmed but ecstatic. “My novel. It is complete. It would not have been possible without him.”  
  
“Heh, your ‘boyfriend?’” Charles teased, hoping to provoke a reaction, and it worked, but not the way that he had expected.  
  
“He is, I suppose. I hadn’t considered that.”  
  
“I- Wait, what? I was joking. Are you really doing well over there?”  
  
The gentle sound of Lysander’s guitar wafted in from the window, and Elliott smiled again, feeling that soft surge of comforting warmth again. “Yes, and I am serious. I told him, Charles, what I feel. He means so much to me but I was scared to say anything before, worried that he would push me away. But today I finished my book and took the chance, and he feels the same. I- Please say nothing to mother and father just yet, I am still barely able to believe it myself, but…”  
  
“I’m happy for you, little brother,” Charles replied, laughing softly on the other end of the phone, “I apologize for my earlier behavior, I should not have treated your feelings so lightly.”  
  
“No, it is alright. You meant well and intended no harm.”  
  
Sighing with relief, Charles was quiet for a moment as he considered the situation. “I really do need to meet him someday and offer my deepest thanks. And this news is yours to offer to our parents, I will keep my silence. Congratulations, on both counts.”  
  
“Thank you.” He wiped away more happy tears and sprawled on his back, almost out of energy after the everything that had happened that day. “I will tell them soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	30. Touching Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //More fluffy stuff, 'cause I need it. DealWithIt.gif :P//

Arms behind his head, Elliott studied the ceiling as he smiled to himself the next morning. It was almost too much for him to believe. Not only had he completed his novel, he had opened himself up to a dear friend and had gained something so much more. That touch, that warmth... He hadn't felt this content in years. Lying there for a little while longer, he allowed himself a few minutes to replay a few events from the day before. Even as memories they still evoked the same emotions and sensations that they had at that moment.  
  
 _I am almost afraid to move and rise for the day, lest it all be merely a dream. I have never been unfortunate, but never have I expected to achieve such success like this. Lysander, thank you, for everything._  
  
A quick glance at his phone for time told him that he wouldn't be able to lounge about any longer if he wanted to get cleaned up before Lysander was likely to arrive, and he momentarily wondered if he should wait _just_ a little longer, perhaps it could be shared...  
  
No, they had just begun this relationship, and Lysander had been concerned enough about going too far with him. Though the musician was comfortable with his desires, sexuality, and self, he was also aware that very few others were as well, and would likely not pursue a more physical relationship for a little while. This wasn't a problem, Elliott didn't mind taking it slowly. He would enjoy the time that they shared together, and would let the relationship progress as it happened.  
  
Dressing in warm, bright colors, he ran a brush through his hair and affixed his earrings as he strode out of the bedroom, humming to himself. He prepared a coffee for himself and reviewed his work, scrolling slowly as he took in the story as a reader, not a writer. It wasn't ready for submission just yet, it needed one last check with himself and Lysander, but they could do that a bit later. Once he had finished his coffee he got up to make another, then set aside the mug to sit at the piano, suddenly taken with the urge to play again. He remembered the day that Lysander had first visited, how he had felt the same need to play after so long away from this set of keys.  
  
This time there was no clumsy stiffness this time; confidence and practice had made him much better than before, and he tried that personal composition that he was still working on. It came to him as easily as breathing did, and after playing it once went back and tried it again, but a little bit _more_ this time. It still wasn't quite finished, but he was getting farther with it, and he could feel it nearing its completion. Partway through a third rendition he felt a flutter of delight as Lysander let himself in. He greeted his companion enthusiastically, and the other man sat down next to him with a smile, favoring him with a quick kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Hey love, you sounded good on the way in."  
  
Feeling gently affectionate, Elliott pulled him closer, an arm around his shoulders. "That's because you inspire me to greatness." Elliott let his fingers follow the lines of his partner's face, from cheek to shoulder, as he kissed him softly, savoring every sensation. With a smile and a sigh, Lysander leaned into him, remarking that they'd have to do that again, and asked if he could request a favor, to which Elliott agreed if it was something that he had the skill or resources to provide. Playing a line of ascending notes with one hand, he wondered if Elliott could show him how to play the piano, which made the author's pulse skip a beat.  
  
“I would be delighted to be able to share this with you,” he smiled, not only flattered that Lysander looked up to him as an instructor, but that this was something that _he_ could teach _him_ for once. Unsure of Lysander's skill, he asked him to play what he did know, and for the next hour they tinkered and experimented to find the best way for Lysander to learn.  
  
Eventually, Elliott paused to massage his left wrist. All of this playing today, plus the practice the last couple of weeks, and especially the novel writing, had left him with a bit of an ache; an artifact of his injury that last winter. Noticing this, Lysander inquired, and Elliott related the tale, feeling a little silly for the manner in which he had injured himself.  
  
"Want me to try to work on it for you?" Lysander asked, "I'm pretty good with my hands in a lot of ways, and I might be able to do something."  
  
Offering his hand, Elliott nodded. "If you have anything that can be done it would be welcome. It was not a crippling fall, for that I am fortunate, but now and then it does ache, and I would be rid of it if possible."  
  
Lysander unbuttoned and rolled up Elliott's sleeve, turning his arm so that his wrist was up, then probed deeply with his fingers as he felt for what was wrong. It was a little painful, but it wasn't from any lack of skill.  
  
After silently prodding for a minute, Lysander nodded. "Yeah, it was just a sprain, but it looks like it healed a little weird. Do you have any anti-inflammatory meds?" Elliott confirmed that he did, and Lysander nodded again. "Okay, take a couple tonight, and again for the next day or two. I'll do what I can right now and get a few things relaxed, then again tomorrow and see how you're doing. I'll try to be gentle, but this will be a little painful at first, sorry about that."  
  
"It is no prob- Gnnh!" Elliott's hand spasmed as Lysander massaged his wrist with near-professional skill and an unexpected level of strength. He tried not to twitch, but he did so involuntarily a few times. However, it didn't take long before the pain subsided and he felt a pleasant tingle instead.  
  
"There we go," Lysander smiled, "I finally popped loose a couple of things in there. They were a bit tight and were putting tension on other areas, which put tension on other areas, and so on. Like I said, grab those meds a bit later and I'll have another go tomorrow. Any other spots you want me to try to get to?" His posture wasn't terribly good, and he had spent a lot of time in that chair, so Elliott remarked that his back sometimes gave him problems, and Lysander got up to stand behind him. "Yeah, I feel a big knot here on the right side, feels like the same tension I get when I use the computer mouse too long without changing position. This is gonna be worse than your hand at first, and I'm _really_ sorry about that."  
  
Gasping loudly at the sharp pain, Elliott forced himself to relax as Lysander inspected the area of tension, then the area around it. He calibrated himself to Elliott's needs quickly, and dug in his thumbs in calculated areas to shift and relax specific tendons and muscle groups. The pressure and pain increased until Elliott actually heard a pop, and at the same time felt a massive rush of relief.  
  
"I do not know what you did, but already I am- Ah!" He gasped again as Lysander continued prodding the tense, sore muscles.  
  
"Same as your hand, I just got a few things to pop free. This gets easier from here on out, at least."  
  
It certainly did, and Elliott felt his senses being drowned in a warm, tingling sensation as Lysander's hands moved up his back and over his shoulders. The feeling got stronger as Lysander's fingers worked into his neck, and Elliott made a rather loud sound of pleasure, one that left him blushing a red nearly the color of his partner's hair.  
  
"I-! My apologies, dear, that felt quite good and-" He paused at the odd look that Lysander wore. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
"No, not at all. It's..." He wore that soft, happy smile that Elliott knew belonged to him and nobody else. "I like that."  
  
Unsure what Lysander meant, Elliott was about to ask, then realized his unintentional term of affection and chuckled to himself. "It came to my lips without a second thought, and for that I would have yours again."  
  
"You can if I can hear that again," Lysander giggled, pulling Elliott to his feet.  
  
"I will say anything you desire if it will make you smile, my dear." This was what Lysander wanted, and melted into Elliott's arms happily, who enjoyed the simple luxury of twining a few locks of that copper-red hair around his fingers in the mutual silence. "I suppose this was the 'continuing it later' that you suggested earlier?" Elliott asked when he finally allowed Lysander to speak again.  
  
"We can do that for a while longer if you like," he grinned, running a finger over the edge of Elliott's ear, which felt _very_ nice.  
  
"It is my turn to suggest that we continue this in the near future," rebuffed Elliott, "I have not yet eaten today and think it is time that we directed our energies in a more culinary direction."  
  
Lysander considered this and looked a little sheepish. "I'll help, but I'm a terrible cook, so I might end up getting in your way."  
  
"Are you willing to learn?"  
  
Sniffing with mock injured pride, he swatted Elliott on the bottom as they walked to the kitchen. "When have I ever not wanted to? Though it's your kitchen that's at risk. I haven't burned anything in ages but that also means it's probably time for it to happen."  
  
"Then I shall have to be vigilant during these lessons. Here, if you can cut these up I will do the rest," Elliott offered, handing over some vegetables as he retrieved various things from the pantry, cupboards, and refrigerator.  
  
He almost didn't catch the look of hesitant worry as Lysander paused in reaching for a knife, but didn't comment on it. He must simply be worried about making a mess, that was all. This thought was reinforced when he was forced to step in to keep Lysander from cutting himself instead, and reached over to change the way in which Lysander was holding, well, _everything_ , as well as the way he was using the knife.  
  
"First, don't extend your fingers so much, hold it with your fingertips so that when you cut the blade meets a flat surface. Second, cut slightly away from yourself. Try to use this portion of the blade so that you have better leverage and are less likely to slip with it or get it stuck."  
  
Frowning in concentration, Lysander followed the instructions and had much more success, cutting much faster and more cleanly than last time. "Oh, wow, that's a lot better. Funny, it's not like I never tried to learn, mom and dad really did try to show me at least the basics, but it just never clicked for me."  
  
"Perhaps you simply needed a good reason, something to make it interesting."  
  
"Or a cute enough teacher," he grinned, bumping him lightly with his hip.  
  
Under Elliott's tutelage Lysander succeeded not only in _not_ setting something on fire, but actually being a useful assistant, and watched with focused interest as Elliott cooked while asking thoughtful questions. Once finished, Lysander served them both as Elliott reached for a bottle of wine, then thought about it and put it back.  
  
"Not the one you wanted?" Lysander asked.  
  
"It is, but I didn't think that..."  
  
"That?"  
  
Smiling uncertainly, Elliott picked up the bottle again. "I didn't think that it might be terribly appropriate. Or that you'd like it."  
  
In response, Lysander pulled out two wineglasses from the cupboard. "I do, and I think that it is. You've just finished your life's dream, remember? It still needs to be submitted for publishing, but still, that's just details at this point."  
  
Elliott felt relieved at this assessment and opened the bottle, pouring for them both. Taking one glass, Lysander closed his eyes and took a moment to smell it, smiling faintly, then a small sip. "Very nice. Several berry notes, but also some oak. I do love a good dry red, but sometimes they can lack character or have too much tannin." At Elliott's look of surprise he giggled and leaned against the counter. "Dad's a wine snob, mom's a beer enthusiast. I'll have to tell you stories some time, assuming they don't get to it first. Which reminds me, I need to ask mom again about that one time. Apparently she and dad were involved in a somewhat legendary pub crawl a few years before I was born, and it's a hell of a story."  
  
He suddenly looked introspective and downcast, and examined the liquid in his glass. Brushing his hand gently, Elliott asked him what was on his mind, and Lysander swirled the dark red wine. "I wonder, would they have been happier without me? It's not like they're bad parents at all or anything, and I never lacked for love or what I needed, but... They've told stories of their adventures before I came around, and I wonder if having me meant an end to all of that."  
  
Moving over to stand next to him, Elliott put an arm around his waist and kissed his temple. "I very much doubt that. If you are anything at all like your parents then you are simply a new adventure, one that they love with all of their hearts. Have you ever given them reason to doubt you, or felt as though you were a disappointment?" This question brought tears to those warm hazel eyes, and Elliott immediately regretted it. Biting his lip and shaking his head, Lysander took another sip.  
  
"No, I haven't. I... I have done something I regret, but it has nothing to do with them. They've always been proud of and have supported me. You're right, love. Thanks." He brightened again and raised his glass. "Let's sit down and celebrate a bit. To the completion of your book, and to us."  
  
This simple but heartfelt toast made Elliott feel flush with happy warmth, and he returned the gesture. "To _our_ book, and to us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	31. No Longer a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //:)//

The next day Elliott was seated comfortably in his computer chair, with Lysander equally comfortably curled up around him in his lap. The chair reclined a little, and that helped keep them from being twisted about or needing to sit strangely to accommodate the both of them. One arm around Elliott's neck, Lysander occasionally reached over with the other to grab the mouse to scroll down the page, or to retrieve and sip from his coffee. Elliott had one arm around Lysander's waist and a coffee in his other hand, enjoying the other man's cuddly presence as they read their story together, checking for any final errors before it was submitted for publishing. Now and then Lysander would lean over to kiss him, just a quick, fond peck, before turning back to their work.  
  
Sighing contentedly, Lysander idly wound a lock of Elliott's hair around his finger as he again scrolled further down the story, then nibbled his ear and smiled at the chuckle it produced. Elliott pulled him down for a more prolonged, pleasant kiss, putting aside his coffee to gently run his hands over his companion. "You are feeling quite affectionate, my dear," he noted when he finally allowed Lysander to sit up again, "and I cannot complain."  
  
"It's a nice day out and I get to snuggle up against you for a bit. My only complaint is that we could use a better chair, this one's a bit limited. And _you_ seem to be rather affectionate as well."  
  
With a smile, Elliott traced the lines of Lysander's face with a finger. "As you said, it is a lovely day, and not only do I have the pleasure of reading a story that I crafted with my beautiful muse, I get to do so with him in my arms. Never before have I felt so content, and if there is sadness to be felt, it is that I do not know if any moment could be any better."  
  
"I think you've got a few other things to look forward to," Lysander grinned, leaning into Elliott's touch, "like seeing your book published, for one."  
  
" _Our_ book," he reminded again, "and you make a valid point. Whatever it is that happens, I shall be happy as long as it is with you."  
  
Lysander hugged him, laughing merrily, and kissed the top of Elliott's head. "Oh! I never asked, do you have a place to submit this?"  
  
"That I do, however, I do not know the name under which I should do so." At Lysander's look of inquiry, Elliott reached for his coffee. "You recall that I came here to find my own way, and that I do not want to use my family name just yet. As you saw, I simply used my initials when submitting my short stories, but for this... I am still loath to use a pseudonym, but I also do not want to use my true name. Do not worry, though, I will not ask you to change yours. You _will_ be credited, my dear, and I insist upon it, though if you choose to not use your own name as well I understand."  
  
"Actually... Why not use mine, I guess?" Lysander suggested, scrolling a bit further through the file, "I mean, it's not quite your own name, and it's not a pen name, either, but..." He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah, never mind, it's a silly idea. Sorry."  
  
"Not at all," reassured the writer, "it isn't a bad idea. You must be credited, and since I am unable to conjure up a new moniker for myself, it stands to reason that I borrow an existing one."  
  
"It won't be a problem in the future when you write your next book?"  
  
Laughing, Elliott hugged him again. "I will deal with that conundrum should it still exist at that time. For now, I am simply pleased at what I have accomplished. And all that I have attained." He pressed a kiss to Lysander's fingers, smiling at his companion's chuckle.  
  
"Fair enough. Well, let's finish looking over this so we can get this sent off that much sooner."  
  
They continued reading their novel, pausing only for a quick bite of lunch, then promptly went back to their task, finishing only when it was dark outside. Lysander glanced out the window and sighed, stretching with satisfaction. "We've done nothing all day but I still feel tired off of my butt. If you don't mind, I'm going to get off home and crash out for sleep."  
  
"I am not the least bit perturbed. And while we did nothing physical, we were engaged in a heavily mental task for quite some time. Thinking _does_ take effort, you know. I shall send it off tonight before I go to bed myself, so that the editor may see it first thing in the morning."  
  
"Nifty. Well, sleep well, then, I'll be back tomorrow."  
  
He threw his arms around Elliott's neck and kissed him again before picking up Resonance and leaving, waving as he closed the door behind himself. Smiling, Elliott returned to his laptop, pulled up the contact information for the publishing editor, attached a cover letter and the file, and sent it off. With a deep breath, he sank into his computer chair and stared at the screen, running a hand through his hair, the same as he had done a couple of days previous.  
  
 _Light guide me, I cannot believe it. Not just complete, but delivered. Whether or not it will be accepted is still to be seen, but regardless, I won't give up hope. Many authors never find success on their first try, and must edit and re-send their works over and over before they are published. I have done it, that is what matters._  
  
He undressed leisurely, thinking of the day, having spent it with Lysander in his arms, and how it should have given rise to more...risqué thoughts. But for the moment he was happy to simply be able to hold him at all, to call him his own, and to feel his touch every day. The matter of a more physical relationship could be brought up at a later date.  
  
Setting the alarm on his phone, he plugged it in, turned out the lights, and slid under the sheets, just now feeling the tiredness of which Lysander had spoken, but tempered with the happy warmth of the memory of his companion's touch.  
  
The next morning he woke and rose as usual, taking his shower and dressing, then making a drink and seating himself at his laptop. To his surprise, he saw a new email. From the editor! Hastily setting aside his coffee, Elliott opened and read the message, feeling his heart skip with relief and then excitement. It was being considered! There were a few changes to possibly be made but overall...  
  
"Hey love- Oh! Something good happen?"  
  
Elliott looked up from his screen to see Lysander walk in and set aside Resonance, and he nearly ran over to his partner. "It's being accepted! At least, it might, there's a few things that they want to go over. But still, I-" He swept Lysander up into a hug, lifting him off of the floor for a moment, laughing with delight. "Come, sit with me, let us review their demands and see what must be altered for our work to be accepted."  
  
Making the requested alterations and asking a few questions of their own, Elliott sent off a reply, and Lysander snuck another kiss before going to make his own coffee. As he returned, another email came back. The editor was quick in their replies! Elliott sent one of his own again, and was surprised to see another one come back so swiftly. Apparently they were at their desk and working specifically on his submission. They read over this next missive and cheekily sent back that it would be faster if they were to call. This suggestion wasn't as unlikely as they had thought, as the editor suggested that it _would_ be faster than sending emails back and forth. Trading contact information, Elliott plugged his phone into his laptop for power just as a call came in.  
  
"Hello, am I speaking with Elliott?" asked a professional female voice.  
  
"You are, along with Lysander, my co-author."  
  
"I'm fine with Lys," offered the copper-haired man, pulling the folding chair over to sit closer to the phone.  
  
"Good, it's nice to put voices to names," said their caller, "I'm Val, let's see if we can get some particulars worked out."  
  
This was _much_ faster than sending messages between each other, and avoided the potential complication of misunderstandings or miscommunications. Overall the story was solid and didn't need much changing, and their careful scouring of the text had caught all but the tiniest of errors, which left them feeling a little embarrassed, but all the same, after staring at it for so long, it was only to be expected. They were glad for a third pair of eyes to read it fresh, and therefore could catch things that they had missed.  
  
Eventually, Lysander glanced at the clock and swore quietly. "Bugger, I hate to be rude, but we've got band practice soon."  
  
"Oh, you're musicians as well? You two are quite talented," laughed the editor, "well, that's all that we can do for now. This is good to go. I'll make these changes and pass it on for review, and will let you know tomorrow what's going to go on."  
  
Elliott saved the work that they'd done and unplugged his phone from the laptop. "Our deepest thanks for all of your assistance. Should you require anything else my phone is always on."  
  
"I'll make a note of that. Better get going so you can get there on time, I'll talk with you again later." Val hung up, ending the call, and Elliott picked up his satchel as Lysander grabbed Resonance.  
  
"That was unexpected, but awesome," he smiled, holding open the door for the both of them, "on one hand I can't wait for this to get the green light, but at the same time, I don't want to rush anything and mess it up."  
  
Agreeing with his statement, Elliott closed the door behind the both of them and blinked at the bright, mid-summer sunlight that was such a stark contrast from the dim coolness of his cabin. It took a couple of steps for him to acclimatize, and once he had done so he reached out for Lysander's hand. They were on time, they could take their time to walk and enjoy the weather...  
  
  
Two days later, Lysander entered Elliott's home and stopped short. Elliott was sitting in his chair, phone held in both hands, tears running down his cheeks. Terrified that something had gone wrong, he dashed over, and felt his pulse steady when he saw Elliott look up at him and smile.  
  
"It's been accepted," he whispered, "it's going to print. I've done it, Lysander, I've finally done it." He put aside his phone and stood to hug his partner, burying his face in Lysander's shoulder, feeling weak with relief and not holding back the tears of joy that overflowed. "By the light, I have done it, and it is all thanks to you, my dearest."  
  
Sighing with his own relief that the news was good and not dire, he returned the embrace, being a solid support for Elliott, who seemed barely able to stand on his own at the moment. "I'm proud of you, love, and I bet your family will be, too. I mean, okay, I've only known you a few months, but in that time..." He chuckled softly and threaded his fingers through Elliott's hair. "We made something brilliant together, that feels amazing. I can't wait to start the next project. Don't get me wrong, I love what's going on with the band, too. I haven't done that sort of thing in ages and it feels _great_ to play with a group again, but this... I'm finally making something. Creating something of my own. Thank _you_."  
  
With a smile, Elliott kissed Lysander on the neck, just under his choker, and continued to hold him, almost too overwhelmed to do anything else. "I am almost dizzy, my dear, my thoughts are tangled and scattered. It is finally done, and now that it is, I have difficulty in telling myself that it is real. To wake and find that this was all a dream, I could not bear it."  
  
"If I'm just a dream then you've got a wonderful imagination," Lysander soothed, "and you shouldn't fear waking, because if I _am_ a dream, all you need to do to see me again is close your eyes, right?" He felt Elliott's fingers dig into his back as his hold tightened.  
  
"It is I who claim dominion over the written word, but yours is over the ones spoken aloud. You are correct. I fear no longer. Let us converse and celebrate. I will regale you with the details."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	32. A Mid-Summer Night's Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //In the last few days I've been catching up on current content in Final Fantasy 14, as I went on hiatus for about six months. ...At least I've remembered to shower and to grab a meal now and then...//

With the book no longer weighing so heavily on his mind Elliott was better able to focus his attention on the music at practice with the rest of the band. Sam noticed this but didn't say anything, but the enthusiastic grin he threw in the pianist's direction said everything. It was after practice the day that Elliott had told Lysander about his successful publication notice (though not to anyone else) when Sam smirked at him after the new couple had shared a quick embrace and kiss, and the copper-haired man had left.  
  
"Seriously, it took you two long enough. I really was _this_ close to going for it, you know. Man, I didn't peg you for the competitive type, but that just goes to show how people can surprise you, hunh?"  
  
"You what?" Elliott asked, having no idea whether Sam was honest or jesting.  
  
Sighing and rolling his eyes, Sam lightly punched Elliott on the arm and laced his fingers behind his head. "Yeah, I'm not into dudes, but y'gotta admit, he's different, and that could be fun. Still, it's been stupidly obvious for, like, _ever_ that you wanted some of that more than I did. I figured that just telling you to go talk to him wouldn't work, so I had to be sneaky about it. I mean, come _on_ , I freaking kissed him in front of everyone and you didn't say anything! What did it finally take for you to make your move? Or did he get to it first?"  
  
This level of candor was unexpected, though really, Elliott should have expected it. "It was...a bit of a mutual confession," he admitted, smiling faintly at the memory, "and though I did feel, well, jealousy at your affection toward him, I always held back because I thought that what I felt was not shared. But I wonder, and answer me truly, had I not said anything, would you have pursued him romantically, and not just on a whim?"  
  
For a moment, Sam dropped the grin of mischief and gave Elliott a wry smile. "Fine, I'll level with you, but just this once. No, I wouldn't have gone for him. Hell, I barely had the courage to do what I did in the first place, and it was mostly because it was funny. It's just... Life's all about trying new things, and I figure hey, while I'm young and can get away with it, see exactly who and what I like, you know? I'm pretty sure I only like girls, but I'm not not-attracted to guys." His usual grin returned and he stretched his arms over his head. "But anyway, it's all moot. I'm happy for you two, really. You're one of those stupidly cute couples, and watching you be all awkward is just hilarious. I'll kinda be sad to see you gain confidence."  
  
This actually annoyed Elliott a little, who folded his arms across his chest and gave Sam an annoyed look. "I am of the impression that not only will whatever I do be met with amusement, but I shall never be free of your continual need to tease."  
  
"Nope," Sam giggled, "not until you give me a reason to stop."  
  
Silently, Elliott filed this away in the back of his mind as Sam shouldered his backpack, waved, and wandered off.  
  
  
Practice continued every night for the next couple of weeks until the Luau, and while they had confidence in themselves and their music, it _was_ a completely new experience for them to perform for others. Well, for everyone but Lysander, who not only seemed completely relaxed, but almost indifferent to the entire thing. Due to the beach-side location, it wasn't much effort to move Elliott's piano outside to the area that they'd be performing, which was done while the rest of their gear was set up. Alex and his truck had been invaluable in getting everything from the community center to the beach, and his help in putting it all back together equally so.  
  
As they set up their "stage" (on some plywood that they'd set down to give them a flat surface) Elliott glanced around to see how his fellow musicians fared, as well as take stock of their "uniform." They all wore a similar style in that they wore black pants and a shirt of some sort, with a bit of color over it to match the band name: The Elements of Sound. Elliott was glad to give his black trousers and waistcoat a use, as well as that sapphire-blue shirt that he'd not worn in a while. Lysander's garb was the same as his usual manner of dress, with black cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt under an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt in red. Sam had black jeans and wore a black t-shirt and a yellow jacket over it, and Sebastian had a similar pair of jeans but with a short-sleeved hoodie in green. Abigail looked like her normal self for the most part, given that one could hardly recall her wearing anything _other_ than violet and black.  
  
 _We are coming together as an ensemble. How strange, yet how comfortable. Soon I will be published, and not much time after it is possible that we will make our professional debut. Had one told me of this a year previous I'd have called them mad, possibly even a liar, and told them not to taunt me so. What will the next year bring, I wonder? No matter, it is the now that matters._  
  
As the shadows grew longer toward evening they went over their set list one last time, and Lysander provided them a gentle touch and words that somehow assuaged their apprehension, never once losing that warm smile. Then, it was time for the show to begin. One last time, Lysander gave Sam the support that he needed to find his confidence and step up to the microphone. Elliott took a few deep, calming breaths to find his own center. He wasn't nervous, strangely, and looked forward to performing with everyone for the town. For the first time he actually felt like he was a part of something, of this place. Now he actually belonged, and that feeling was something that even he almost couldn't describe...  
  
The set went very well; all of the practice had showed itself, and Sam had proved to be an impressive songwriter. Elliott could take a bit of credit on some of the lyrics, that was true, and this thought filled him with a sense of accomplishment. So much had been achieved in just a few months! They performed for a couple of hours, never losing their energy or spark. In practice they had sounded good, but even out here, without the benefit of acoustics, they sounded brilliant. Caught up in the moment, Elliott never once felt self-conscious or hesitant, even during the vocal battle piece with Lysander. Rather, he delighted in the opportunity to perform alongside his partner.  
  
...His partner...  
  
Elliott remembered almost nothing about the set when it ended, as everything blurred together into a single memory. Later on he would be able to pick it apart and recall specific bits, but for now, he felt almost euphoric. Their moment was over, and they could rest. Except for Lysander, though, who had something of his own that he wanted to do.  
  
Surprised that a town that did so many traditional dances didn't perform this one, Lysander had asked the mayor for permission to perform this one the week before, and it was immediately granted. He then asked Elliott if he would like to join him, but Elliott had turned almost as red as his partner's hair and, as he had before, professed that he had no confidence for performing for others like that. As a part of a group, yes, but a dancing duet? Perhaps in the future, but not now...  
  
Slowly feeling his mind spin down from the energetic high of the set, Elliott followed Sam to the sidelines, giving Sebastian and Abigail the room they needed to provide the music to which Lysander would dance. He still felt a little dreamy, though, and watched his partner fondly as he took his place in an area cleared for him, standing in the starting pose with absolute confidence. As the music started, Lysander moved, and the elegance made Elliott's pulse skip a little bit. Such grace, such skill! Could anyone watch and not feel inspired?  
  
 _The Dance of the Summer Flame, how wonderfully appropriate for you. A dance of life and joy, energetic and brilliant. How I would like to join you, but not in front of others. I will not intrude upon the opportunity for you to shine your own light this evening, my flame of hope._  
  
Standing next to Elliott, Sam let out a long, deep sigh of relief and shook his head, remarking that he'd had fun, but it had taken a lot out of him. As he rubbed the back of his neck he also offered the opinion that Lysander was quite "gutsy" in choosing to do his solo dance, which produced a moment of thoughtfulness. "Wait, isn't this supposed to be for two people?" he asked.  
  
Elliott confirmed this, still watching with a rather distant and introspective look, and added that it was Lysander's act to perform, as he didn't have the confidence to do it as well. Surprised, Sam glanced between the two of them and asked if Elliott knew how to dance, which also provoked a positive answer. Sam's sudden silence would have been worrying to anyone paying attention, but Elliott wasn't, and therefore was completely unprepared for what happened next.  
  
"Prove it."  
  
He felt a pair of hands in his back push him with surprising strength, and being completely unprepared to resist, Elliott lost his balance and staggered forward, directly into Lysander's path. There was laughter from the crowd and a yowl of pain from Sam from behind him, and Elliott silently cursed his friend. Despite this, Lysander reached out and took his hand, guiding him in, and reflexively, Elliott followed his partner, knowing how the dance went. Embarrassed, he tried to apologize, but Lysander would have none of it.  
  
"Forget them," he smiled, "dance with me."  
  
The entire evening up to that point had been a blur, but here, now, this moment he would recall later without error. Though he had turned down the offer to perform together for the town, that didn't stop them from practicing together at Elliott's home, and it had been exhilarating. Elliott had always been reserved and conservative in his modes of expression, but this dance... It was of companions, of partners, of life and love and the love of life...  
  
For a little while Elliott forgot where he was, lost in the music and the moment. More than just a dance, it was ritual combat as well, proof to each other and to those who watched that they were equals. Balanced in mind, body, and spirit to each other, the lead passed back and forth between them, and despite Elliott's relative inexperience, he felt nothing but joy. The crowd seemed to be enjoying the show as well, but they didn't matter. For now, for just this temporary slice of time, it was them. It was _their_ stage.  
  
The final bars of the music played, the final steps were danced, and they stood in each other's arms, breathless and exhausted, but exuberant. Then, as he had done back home every time, he pulled Lysander closer and kissed him, barely aware of applause in the background.  
  
 _...Applause, what-_ _OH GODS._  
  
The reason for his elevated pulse rate changed as Elliott suddenly remembered where they were, and tried to quietly apologize for it.  
  
"We're still on stage," Lysander interrupted, once more wearing the performer's smile that he'd had all night, "roll with it." As directed, Elliott turned and bowed to the crowd, though not with as much flair as his partner. He felt a small surge of relief when a glance at the crowd showed that they thought it had all just been part of the act; he really did love the other man, but light help him, he wasn't quite ready to make this sort of thing public just yet.  
  
The mayor and the governor approached, and Elliott felt another cold wave of panic. Oh, light help him, he had just done that in front of everyone, including...! As usual, Lysander wasn't bothered, and with the stage voice that he'd perfected over so many years from so many performances, thanked the townsfolk (and a few tourists!) for their time and attention, and requested one final bout of recognition for his fellow bandmates, helping shift the spotlight off of them. The "control" of the events was turned over to Lewis, who questioned the end of the dance, but seemed more concerned with the public image of the town in front of the governor, and didn't seem to object to it on a personal level.  
  
Pulling aside the band one last time, Lysander gave them his most winning smile and words of praise. They had performed brilliantly, and their debut could not have gone any better! Even with Sam's little prank, which Elliott added to his growing mental notes of "things about Sam to remember." Lysander reminded them that, until the night was over and everything was put away, they were still performers, and needed to behave as such.  
  
"So get out there and mingle," he laughed, "and stay in character." While watching them depart, Lysander's expression put Elliott in mind of a proud father watching his children, and when he expressed this to his partner, he got a delighted giggle and a hug. "I like to think I'm more of an older brother to them, but I'm a bit more of a mentor than anything else right now, aren't I?"  
  
Brushing aside a few stray copper-red hairs, Elliott kissed his cheek, now that they were mostly out of sight of the rest of the town. "You are inspiration and hope given flesh, and the radiance with which you shine brings us warmth and comfort."  
  
As always, this sort of thing made Lysander give him that soft, warm smile that Elliott knew only he would ever see, and he returned the gesture. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but one day I'll figure it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	33. Cleaning Up and Winding Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I really do like Elliott and Alex interacting together. They're such opposites, yet they've still go so much in common.//

Elliott was worried that he'd be asked awkward questions, but to his relief as he mingled and socialized, the matter of the end of the dance never came up. Rather, people were more curious about his book, as well as his unexpected membership of Sam's group, which everyone had honestly assumed to be little more than a hobby or a "garage band." After a half an hour of trepidation he felt relaxed enough to be himself, and found himself enjoying the festival much more than he had expected. A LOT more than he had the previous year, that was certain!  
  
The other band members seemed to be holding up well as well, though he could see the underlying nervousness of the sudden limelight as well as the success of their set. Lysander, however, appeared to thrive in this sort of environment. Not because of the attention, but because of the performance that had been excellent, and therefore he was able to continue fanning the flames of excitement and enthusiasm among the crowd. It was never for himself, it was always for the benefit of his bandmates or the audience. Smiling fondly at him, Elliott found a cold, refreshing drink that he didn't realize he'd needed quite so badly.  
  
Once the Luau wound down and the festivities concluded, they dismantled their temporary setup, loading it into Alex's truck before returning the piano to Elliott's home. (He was extremely relieved that no harm had come to the instrument!) Taking a moment to catch their collective breaths, Lysander laughed with delight and gathered everyone around him again. There was the need for a few hands to offload the equipment at the community center, but he, Elliott, and Alex would handle that. The others lived a bit too far away to make it safe, so he directed the other four to go home and get some sleep.  
  
"Great job everyone, I mean it," he smiled, "you’re on your way to being professional.”  
  
Sam reminded him that yet again he'd forgotten to include himself in the group statement, and hugged him fiercely around the waist. "C'mon guys, group hug," he offered, waving an arm at everyone else. Abigail needed no further encouraging, and neither did Elliott, who allowed her to grab his arm and drag him into the impromptu hug. The attempt to bring Sebastian in was met with a polite refusal, which was impolitely ignored by Alex, who pulled him over with insulting ease. Protesting this loudly (though Elliott could tell that he didn't _really_ mean it), Lysander teased him gleefully before letting everyone go.  
  
Straightening his clothes, Lysander reminded them again to get home safely, and they departed without further preamble. Once they were no longer in view or earshot, he yawned broadly, no longer able to hide it and completely unable to stifle it. With a patient sigh, Elliott offered that he and Alex could manage alone, but he waved it off.  
  
“I’m fine, love. I’ve been up as long as Alex has and he’s okay.” Alex looked skeptical, noting that _he_ hadn't been playing two hours of music, followed by a very energetic dance. “Really, I’m fine," Lysander sighed, cuffing him in the arm, "the sooner we finish unloading the sooner we can get to sleep.”  
  
The "sooner" happened very soon, as the empty streets between the beach and community center made for a quick trip, and they only unloaded everything inside. It would get set up the next time they practiced. Sighing with relief, Lysander dropped into a chair at the table, leaning against it, and running his fingers through his hair, remarking that _now_ he could finally relax.  
  
Smiling, Elliott agreed, feeling as tired as his companion looked. "Alex, can I impose on you for a lift back? Or at least to your home, I could walk the rest of the way if-” A soft snore interrupted him; Lysander had already dozed off, his arms folded and head resting atop them. Amused at his cousin's exhaustion, Alex promised to get him home, right after they locked up and got Lysander to his place first. He was a creature of habit, and Elliott remembered that he had always kept the keys in his lower left pants pocket. Feeling as though he were violating his privacy, he reached into that pocket and retrieved the necessary keys, passed them to Alex, then picked up his companion somehow without waking him.  
  
The community center was secured behind Elliott, and Alex darted around him to open the passenger side door to allow him access to the cab. Somehow Elliott was able to get inside without assistance or injuring either of them, and still Lysander remained asleep. Would nothing wake him? Alex got into the driver's side and returned the set of keys before getting his own and starting the truck. An arm around Lysander, Elliott held him close, and part of him hoped that he wouldn't be woken by the trip. It had been a tasking day for them all, more so for him, and Elliott did not want to cost him even a minute of sleep. Besides, he rather liked the feeling of supporting him like this...  
  
Neither of them said anything on the drive to Lysander's home, though it wasn't from animosity, just the mutual aversion to potentially waking him. Once again Elliott took the keys from his pocket and passed them over so that Alex could let them into the house, and still Lysander remained asleep as Elliott carefully extracted him from the cab. What _would_ wake him? He hadn't met such a deep sleeper before. Granted, it had been a long day, but still, he should have reacted to something by now.  
  
As Alex let them in and turned on the lights, it occurred to Elliott that this had only been the second time that he'd been inside of this place. Lysander had visited him at the beach nearly every day for several months, but Elliott had yet to return the favor, and this left him feeling somewhat saddened. He would have to change that one of these days. Following Alex into the bedroom, he eased Lysander to the sheets and sat down next to him.  
  
“Even though I’m finally making friends and have completed my novel, I still do not stray far from my home," he sighed, removing the round-rimmed sunglasses that Lysander always wore, "perhaps I’ve not changed as much as I had hoped, not like he has. And yet, I still wonder what he hides, what else he feels he cannot tell me.”  
  
Still in the doorway and leaning against the frame, Alex remarked that apparently there was a lot to be said. "The other day he asked me to look out for you in case he, I dunno, got really angry and tried to fight you or something... Whatever it was he seemed to be really worried about hurting you." Elliott's expression became one of surprise, and Alex nodded, continuing that apparently Lysander wanted to make sure that he wouldn't hurt anyone else, and that this concern worried the athlete. "He’s never been that serious before, it seemed like it was something that had hurt him previously and he didn’t want it to happen to you.”  
  
This was completely new information, though this general concern had been voiced when they finally made clear their feelings for each other. Elliott silently took Lysander's hand, considering Alex's words, and the other man offered a wry grin as he crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his position.  
  
“It’s weird how things change. I thought you were a loser and an outcast for the longest time, and the first thing he did when we met was to nearly knock my block off for it. I stormed off and was angry about everything. I mean, he’d been here only a week and someone like him was defending someone like you? Both of you had to be losers." He laughed and thought about that memory. "Then he apologized and turned it right around, trying to help me with my problems and never asking anything in return. I got to know you both better and you’re actually pretty cool. And he’s just… He inspires you. He’s got this kind of infectious energy that makes you want to do your best, because you know that he genuinely believes that you can. I want to protect that. And if he loves someone like you enough to ask me to guard you, I guess you can’t be all that bad.”  
  
 _This is the heart and mind that I never saw. That I never took the time to see. This gentle guardian and keen mind, possessed of such loyalty. This is what Lysander inspires, what he cultivates in others. We all owe so much to him. Light help me, I do not know what I have done to earn such a treasure, but I shall protect it at all costs._  
  
With a sardonic grin, Elliott looked back up at Alex. "And if a person like me creates the desire within him to personally appoint you as a guardian, you cannot be that bad yourself.” This was met with another laugh and the remark to go "kiss your boyfriend good night, _again_ ," as he walked out. He would message him to let him know that they wouldn't be running in the morning. They had earned that break. Hearing the front door close, Elliott leaned over to brush his cheek with a light kiss, giving his hand one last squeeze, and stood up. The sunglasses joined both sets of keys atop the dresser, and a message notification chime indicated that Alex had just sent off his message. Still completely unconscious, Lysander made no sign that he'd heard his phone, and Xander strolled into the room, trilling happily as Elliott gave him a quick ear-scratch.  
  
The ginger cat continued into the room and jumped onto the bed, curling up next to his owner, and Elliott paused a moment to remember this moment before he walked out, turning out all lights behind him. The truck was already running, and Elliott jogged around to the passenger side, letting himself in. "Apologies for the wait," he began, but was waved off.  
  
"It's okay, you were making sure he was good to go. Got all of your stuff?"  
  
"Yes. And he has all of his. I will have to message him myself. Pardon me a moment."  
  
In a few moments, he had typed up and sent off a quick text, just in case Lysander woke up wondering what had happened. _“You were asleep quite soundly at the community center and we chose not to wake you. Apologies for invading your personal space, I had to retrieve your keys to lock up and to get you home.”_  
  
"There," Elliott sighed, putting his phone into his pocket, "it is done. Thank you once more for your help, Alex, you have been a valuable companion to all of us, and I am embarrassed that it took this long for me to appreciate what you do."  
  
Chuckling, Alex turned south through the plaza back to the beach. "I really get why he loves you, bro. Not just the flowery language, though that is kind cool, I guess, but you're really polite. I mean, you're honest about it. I've been around a lot of people who just kinda talk shit and say whatever, but you, man, if you say something, it's _truth_. I respect the hell out of that. I don't think you're even capable of blowing smoke up someone's ass."  
  
Elliott laughed openly at this unexpected but also honest assessment of his character. "I do not think that I could receive a higher compliment from you. And you are correct, I do mean it. I regret not being able to establish a friendship with you sooner, but I am glad for your presence in my life now." He was amused as an interesting thought came to him, and Alex gave him an inquisitive look. "You really are a 'dog person.' Stubborn and loyal, eager to serve and do the right thing. Though I would not call you a 'dog,' no. Rather, you are a young wolf, learning your place in the world and your strengths. You will soon lead a pack of your own, and will do so with wisdom and strength."  
  
They had reached the bridge over the river, and Alex stopped the truck, giving Elliott a very odd look. "Y'know, I'm actually kinda pissed at myself that I called you a loser back then. Man, I'm such an asshole sometimes."  
  
Reaching over, Elliott put a hand on his shoulder. "We all make mistakes, and part of growing and becoming a better person is recognizing them and moving on. You have done splendidly in that aspect, better than I, even, because you have grown so much so quickly, while I have remained relatively unchanged. I will not ask you to 'not change,' because I hope that you will continue to advance and become something greater."  
  
With a grin that was strikingly similar to the one that Elliott looked forward to seeing every day, Alex opened his arms and leaned over. "You are awesome. Bro hug." Elliott accepted his offer, though Alex's strength left him without breath for a moment. "Awright, get some sleep, lemme know how he's doing tomorrow since I won't see him for a run, 'kay?"  
  
"I will do so. Thank you again for the lift." He waved as Alex turned the truck around, both of them leaving for their own respective homes.  
  
The beach was strangely peaceful after the commotion and excitement earlier that evening, and it was hard to believe that it had only been a few hours previous. Elliott still felt a bit silly about...that, but he was now tired enough that it didn't bother him as much as it had earlier. He paused for just a little while longer to take in the taste and smell of the mid-summer breeze off of the ocean; warm, slightly moist, a little salty, vaguely organic. This town had truly been what he needed to achieve his dreams. What he hadn't known before was it wasn't just the town, but the people living there that would guide him to success.  
  
Letting himself into the house, he closed the door behind himself and navigated effortlessly through the dark room to his bedroom, pulling out his phone and plugging it in before stripping completely and tossing his garments over the chair. He'd put it all away in the morning. For now, however, he had just enough coordination and energy to pull the sheets over himself and settle comfortably against the pillows.  
  
 _This entire day has been a magnificent blur. Perhaps tomorrow I can disentangle all of the various threads from each other, but for now, all of my memories are tangled about each other. Save for one. Never before have I danced with such energy and abandon. Though we were in front of a crowd I did not notice them, for I had something much more wonderful in front of me. With him at my side I truly can accomplish anything._  
  
With a smile of satisfaction, he dozed off, sleeping quite deeply and without interruption, waking quite a bit later than he normally would in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	34. Calls and Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I liked writing for Elliott's parents back in book 1. Getting the opportunity for more dialogue with them (or, at least, Liz) is a proper treat.//

Rising, showering, and dressing, Elliott stretched his arms over his head as he prepared coffee. He sat down in front of his laptop and skimmed over his notes. They didn't quite have a second book started, not yet, but they'd been tossing about ideas. However, that's all that they'd been able to work out, as they'd been spending most of their time in practice for the Luau. With that over, they could once more turn their focus back to writing.  
  
The Luau, oh gods...  
  
With a groan, Elliott put his face in his hands and leaned back in his chair. In front of everyone! And, oh worse, it was likely that this had been filmed by someone, and therefore would find its way online... He still hadn't told his parents about his book or his relationship with Lysander, and he would rather that they didn't find out like this. It had been a few weeks, it was definitely time to say something, but...  
  
 _They should not object to him, I don't think. At least, not to "him." They have always claimed that they care not who I love, but at the same time there is a certain status to uphold. Though we are in the business of theater, what would they think of my choice of an actor? I am still attempting to make a living for myself, and sadly, actors and musicians also tend to find difficulty in earning steady income. I do not think that they will object, but at the same time, I cannot be certain._  
  
He almost didn't hear Lysander knock and enter, and that warm smile helped to ease some of his concern. Crossing the room after setting down Resonance, Lysander kissed him, then sat down on the piano bench.  
  
"Hey, love, think you're up for more lessons?"  
  
Smiling, Elliott got up to sit next to him on the other side. Lysander had picked up on his lessons with satisfying speed, and after going through the drills that they'd done last time, he asked to have a try at the song that Elliott had been playing during his first visit. This request delighted him, and Lysander watched with focused interest as Elliott played it again. His first attempt was slow and filled with errors, but the second try was much more confident and closer to tempo.  
  
Partway through he glanced over at his partner and nudged him with his elbow, almost missing a few notes. "What's up, love? Looks like something's on your mind."  
  
Elliott sighed and shook his head. “As lovely as last night was, I am still embarrassed about my actions. I cannot believe that I forgot where I was. Right in front of the entire town…”  
  
He looked up as the music stopped and Lysander reached over to gently brush his hair behind his ear and told him not to worry; years of stage work had given him a good eye for an audience, and they had all treated it as a part of the script, so to speak. “The only people who know about us is the band," he soothed, "I mean, I haven’t even told my parents yet. It’s not that I’m embarrassed or worried, I just didn’t want to say anything to them until I’d talked to you first. I don’t know what your family has said.”  
  
That touch was reassuring, and Elliott pressed against it, needing that comforting sensation, unable to mask his apprehension. With a chuckle, Lysander correctly guessed that Elliott also hadn't told his family, and he confirmed it. "Like you, I am not embarrassed, but I am concerned," he replied, noting that being the youngest gave him more freedom than his brother, and that his parents were amenable to any relationship that made he and his brother happy. He also expressed his concern for whether they would be overly critical due to the public image that they had to maintain. "Father runs the business side but mother is the face of it all, and he will likely acquiesce to whatever her decision is. I know her very well, and I do not think that she will disapprove, but then...”  
  
His heart sank a little further, and he clenched his fists on his thighs, fearing their disapproval. That warm touch again on his face was a source of comfort, and Lysander smiled softly. “Hey, love, look at me. It’s okay. Talk to them when you’re ready. I won’t push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I just want you to be happy.”  
  
Setting his jaw firmly, Elliott made his decision. He thanked Lysander for respecting the time and method of contacting his family, but also knew that he'd held back long enough already. "No more," he stated with conviction as he took his phone from his pocket, "I have finished my novel, I have found you, and now it is time to finally announce it. While I still have the courage to do so…”  
  
He opened his contacts list and scrolled to his mother, then hesitated again, feeling the painful, cold stab of fear, which eased a little at the gentle smile and pressure on his hand from his companion. "It'll be okay. I'm right here." The kiss on the top of his head provided that last bit of support that he needed as Lysander got up and went to the other side of the room, giving him privacy but still being close enough to be reassuring.  
  
 _With him at my side I can accomplish anything._  
  
One final breath to steady himself, and he pressed the icon to dial her number, his fear returning twice as strongly when the line on the other side picked up. "Elliott? We've not heard from you in quite some time, we were getting worried."  
  
Swallowing to try and get some moisture back into a mouth that was suddenly dry, Elliott knew there was no turning back. “Hello, mother, it’s been a little while, my apologies."  
  
"You have reached out to us, that's what matters," she laughed, "are things finally looking up for you out there?"  
  
A flush of pride momentarily warred for dominance with another stab of fear. "Yes, I am doing quite well. That is why I called, actually."  
  
"Oh! Your book, you've made progress on it?"  
  
"Yes, I have. I have finally finished the novel for which I left home. It should be published in a couple of months."  
  
"A couple of- Ah, that is excellent news, Elliott, I'm so proud of you. And it is officially being published, not submitted for review?"  
  
The surprise and delight in her voice were genuine, and the pain lessened enough for him to smile a little himself. "Correct. In addition, I wanted to tell you that I am..." He almost couldn't say the words, terrified that his happiness was at an end. "Seeing someone," he finally said, feeling his heart pound in his ears.  
  
"Really!" she replied, and this seemed to be more of interest to her, though possibly due to the unexpected nature of this news, "you are dating someone out there?"  
  
Biting his lip, he pressed on, waiting for the hammer to drop. "Yes, I am."  
  
"That's wonderful, dear, how did you meet?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Was it at a cafe or the like, or perhaps through a shared common interest?" She sounded pleased with this thread of conversation so far, but Elliott wasn't sure how long it would last.  
  
"Well, sort of. He helped me with my work, and I couldn’t have done it without him."  
  
"Him?"  
  
Oh gods, it was all going to go wrong now, wasn't it? "...That is correct," he affirmed, "it’s been a few months now, but we weren’t certain that-"  
  
"What is his name?" she interrupted, but not impolitely.  
  
"Ah? Lysander."  
  
"Lysander?" She asked this name as though it sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. He confirmed this statement as well. "Is he there with you right now?" Once more he replied in the affirmative, then asked him something that made his heart skip a beat. "Would it be possible for me to speak with him?"  
  
He shot Lysander a look of panic, which was immediately reflected in his companion's face as well. "You wish to-? Yes, one moment.” The copper-haired man had a good idea of what the request was as Elliott offered him his phone. “Mother would like to speak with you. If you don’t feel comfortable-”  
  
Shaking his head, Lysander came back to him and took the device. "Hello, ma'am?" he asked, and Elliott felt his stomach drop all the way to the floor. Light help him, it was all going to go wrong, this was a terrible idea, he should have-  
  
 _No. I will not despair, nor will I admit defeat. He is charming and eloquent, and there is no reason for mother to find fault with him._  
  
He was unable to convince himself of any of this, especially once he saw Lysander's eyes get a bit wider and his posture straighten a little. She usually had that effect on the unprepared, and he suddenly felt terrible that he'd not taken even a minute to brief his partner on even the basics. This was going to go wrong and it was all his own fault.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Ah, is that the correct form of address? I’m not quite sure-” Lysander paused as she cut him off, but he looked confused, not angry, and apparently she asked him a question that caught him off-guard, given his reply of, "I want to support him and make him happy.”  
  
Feeling the need to do something, _anything_ , other than sitting around and worrying, Elliott got up and went to the kitchen to prepare coffee, his hands beginning to shake as he listened to the conversation with half an ear.  
  
“Well, that’s true. I enjoy being with him. I feel like I’ve got something to fight for, that I want to protect, and it gives me a purpose again. I want to make sure that he has everything he needs to continue his work and not worry about supporting himself.” Elliott smiled at this response, knowing that it should satisfy; his mother respected honesty and selflessness, and one could hear both in his voice. “I… Primarily, I am an actor and a musician," Lysander continued, shifting his position and looking a little uneasy, "but since moving to the town where Elliott lives, I’ve picked up gardening to provide an income.”  
  
 _By the light, here's where it goes wrong. Please, oh gods, please let ME be wrong!_  
  
The cold pit in Elliott's stomach got harder and larger at the change in Lysander's voice; there was restrained anger in it, and he could almost hear a feral rumble in the back of his throat as he spoke. “He has never mentioned his family name nor the source of his income and I respect that. I refuse to be a dead weight on him and will not ask about either until I can provide for us both.” His ire was now visible as he clenched a fist and his posture stiffened in response to another question. “Words or fists, I will stand up and take down anyone and anything that threatens him.”  
  
 _Oh no... She is deliberately provoking him, and I have seen his temper. My dearest, please be mindful of what you say, she is far more fearsome than you know._  
  
“Then I will burn the world!" Gasping, Elliot dropped the cup he had just pulled out, almost breaking it, and turned in horror to see Lysander pacing with fury as he verbally lashed out at the person on the other end of the phone. “If I cannot protect him then my life may as well be forfeit. He has given me a reason to live again, and for that I owe him everything. I ran away from my past life and started over, but I didn’t begin living again until I met him. I’ve never been happier with anyone than I have with Elliott, and with or without your blessing I will love him and stay by his side, and I’d much rather have it.”  
  
 _...This is it. Oh gods..._  
  
Lysander suddenly processed his outburst, surprised at himself, and frowned at another question that puzzled him. “No, I don’t. It’s possible that I may not recognize it anyway. ...That’s... I actually _do_ know that name, but it’s at the back of my mind-" The light of comprehension dawned; clearly Lysander _was_ familiar with his family name. "Wait... The theater in the city, I remember seeing it on a placard there somewhere. Half a moment, you’re telling me that you’re-” Lysander looked as though he'd been struck between the eyes, and took a few steps back to use the table for support. "And it’s quite possible that you’ve been to one of my performances. This is a strange connection. I truly had no idea.” He paused again to listen to her, and whatever was said appeared to be courteous, or, at least, neutral. “Ah, yes, certainly. You too, ma’am.”  
  
Looking even more stunned, he held out the phone for Elliott to take, and the writer moved with speed to retrieve it. “Mother? Is everything-"  
  
"I assume that you were present for that?"  
  
"Pardon? That is correct, I heard everything," he replied, almost unable to hear her for the frantic heartbeat that once again threatened to drown out all other sound, and she asked if he agreed with Lysander's remarks. " Yes, every word, and I would have said the same."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
This question silenced the organic thunder in his mind. "What? I...yes, that is correct," he finally stated, fearing her inevitable disapproval.  
  
"Good," she said, and Elliott could hear the smile in her voice, "clearly he loves you dearly in return, for nobody would dare speak like that unless they had something precious for which they wanted to fight. It appears that he has found fulfillment in your company."  
  
The weight that he didn't realize he'd been carrying suddenly sloughed off, and he almost sagged with the sudden feeling of lightness. “Likewise I did not find inspiration or direction until we had met, and I will not trade our bond for anything." Steeling his courage, he pressed on, determined to speak his mind. "And also likewise, I will love him and stand by his side, even if it means walking away from the family. I love you all truly, but he has given me a gift that I do not think I can ever repay, and for that my devotion is his.”  
  
"Phillip and I will never know why you never pursued theater yourself, dear," she chuckled, "you are positively dramatic, and I am not the least bit surprised that you found companionship in one who did. He is a passionate, compassionate man, and I am certain that your father will enjoy talking with him as well."  
  
All of the tension and fear vanished, and the lightness almost left him dizzy. “That... Thank you. I had been worried that-"  
  
"Oh, Elliott, you truly thought that we would cast you out? Dear, never forget, we will always support you in your pursuit of happiness. We are critical, yes, in your choice of life partners, but only because we want to be certain that they deserve you."  
  
"Ah, I see," he replied, now feeling foolish for having caused himself so much grief, "once more, thank you. Please give my regards to father. I’ll call again soon, I have been remiss in that."  
  
"That you have," she laughed, but not unkindly, "but from what I have gleaned your silence was understandable, and this news was quite worth the wait. I think that I have put you through enough for now, I'll update your father myself in a little bit. It was delightful being able to talk with the both of you. Love, you, dear."  
  
"Love you too, mother, until next time.”  
  
He ended the call and almost felt his knees buckle under him, not noticing his phone hitting the ground as he let out a shuddering breath that didn't realize he'd held. The sturdy warmth of Lysander's arms around him pulled him back to reality, and he sought solace in its comfort, clutching his partner firmly. "I'm here, love, it's okay. I think I made a decent first impression." The musician's smile became a bit wry as he recalled the specifics of the conversation. "Although, it is probably bad form to shout at one’s potential mother-in-law like that.”  
  
Elliott's laugh was ragged but relieved. “I was terrified, Lysander, I really was," he admitted, "perhaps it’s silly of me, but-”  
  
“It’s not silly at all," cut in Lysander, meeting his gaze, "your family and their approval mean a lot to you, and now that I know who they are- who _you_ are- I understand why."  
  
He wondered aloud if he had been the one to be rude by not questioning it sooner on his own, and it was Elliott's turn to reassure him, insisting that he had always held back too often himself. "You are the fire that I need. Like the water outside I am far too placid and stoic, full of sound but no real action.”  
  
That wonderful, warm smile split the other man's face as something amusing came to mind. “Well, I don’t know about that. Although your eyes are the color of the ocean. And right now I’m happy to be lost at sea.” His bizarre, playful flirt was awful but welcome, and Elliott told him so, earning a kiss that was equally as welcome. Retrieving the thankfully-undamaged phone, Lysander handed it back and pulled out his own. “Well, fair’s fair. Guess it’s my turn. Ready for round two?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	35. Friends and Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This conversation was alluded to but never talked about back in book 1, and that's a shame. Granted, we did eventually meet up with Lynn and Arthur later, but I think that this was a missed opportunity. But then, this only really has the proper gravitas if it follows the last chapter from Elliott's side, given his concerns about his family's approval, so maybe it's for the better that this didn't happen until now.//

Now finally able to smile again, Elliott felt much better, and actually found himself looking forward to this conversation. "After that first call I am ready for anything."  
  
Lysander's grin was cheeky but reassuring. "We'll see about that," he chuckled, scrolling through his contacts list, "my mom isn’t as intimidating as yours, but she will talk your ear off if she gets the chance, and she loves to ask embarrassing questions just to see how you’ll react."  
  
Returning to the kitchen, Elliott remarked that he was of the opinion that he physically resembled his father, but intellectually resembled his mother, which Lysander was quick to confirm. "Still want to do this?" he asked, waving the phone at the author.  
  
"As you said, fair's fair," Elliott replied, inspecting the cup that he had dropped and was relieved to find it undamaged, "let me at least pour that coffee first."  
  
Returning with two fresh cups, he offered one to Lysander, who dialed his parents and leaned into him. Comfortable despite the stiffness of the piano bench, he put an arm around Lysander's shoulders, and the other man perked up as someone answered the phone. "Hi mom, how goes it?" His grin shifted and he sipped his coffee. "Yeah, it's been a while. So, do you and dad have a few minutes? I've got a few things to tell you." This should have left Elliott concerned or worried, but after the success of talking with his own mother and Lysander's assertion that his parents would be welcoming, he patiently waited for Lysander to explain the situation. He was, instead, intrigued when Lysander pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment and smiled warmly. "You feel up to taking a video call?"  
  
This was extremely unexpected, but it sounded interesting. "Do you have good enough reception out here for that?"  
  
"Yeah, and my data plan is pretty robust, I can soak the cellular data for this, it's totally worth it." He turned his attention back to the call, agreeing to the video conference, and pulled the phone away again to tap a few buttons, then set it horizontally on the piano so that they both could see the screen. In a very small picture-in-picture it showed their position, and they shifted a little so that they were both in frame just as Lysander's parents joined them.  
  
"Hi mom, dad, it's been a little while, sorry about that," he greeted, and Elliott studied the screen with intrigued curiosity.  
  
Lysander was _definitely_ his parents' child; the familiar, brilliant grin that Lynn wore was a near-perfect copy of the one that Elliott had been privileged enough to see nearly every day. Arthur's smile was a little more restrained, but it was the mellow, softer one that only Elliott ever got to see. Further, the bright, copper-red hair that Arthur had was much shorter, almost putting Elliott in mind of a small campfire, but Lysander had also inherited the thick, voluminous locks that Lynn boasted.  
  
"Oh! He is _adorable_ ," she gasped, grinning fit to burst, "you always did go for the cute ones."  
  
"If you've trying to embarrass me in front of him you're not trying very hard," Lysander snickered, rolling his eyes, "and you can do that later once you've met him in person."  
  
"So you _are_ dating!" she laughed.  
  
Sighing and shaking his head, Lysander took a sip of his coffee. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"The fact that he's just about as red as your hair, sweetie." A quick glance at Elliott confirmed Lynn's observation, and Lysander kissed him on the cheek as Lynn continued. "Besides, everything about the way you two are sitting together just shouts 'together.' Looks like you've been together a little while, you look comfortable next to each other."  
  
She was _quite_ observant, and Lysander took this in stride as he nodded, leaning into Elliott's shoulder. "Yeah, since late spring or so. This is Elliott, we met at one of the festivals here, and started hanging out when I began helping him out with a novel he was working on."  
  
"An author, really?" queried Arthur, looking interested, "how's that working out for you?"  
  
"Ah, I'm only just recently a proper author," Elliott averred, smiling a little at a gentle elbow jab from Lysander, "previously I'd had no luck in writing at all, and only in the last year have had small works submitted for publication. I had been working on this project for a number of years without success, and it wasn't until I partnered with Lysander that I was able to craft my novel. I owe your son a great debt, mister von-"  
  
"Arthur," interrupted the other man with a lopsided, friendly grin, "or 'Art' if you like. You don't have to stand on formality, but thank you."  
  
"And Lynn works just fine, Elliott," piped up the blonde woman, "but as you were saying, the two of you collaborated on a book?"  
  
Lysander's parents exuded a friendly warmth that made Elliott feel welcome and included, even after just this couple of minutes of conversation, and appeared to be genuinely interested in what he had to say. "That is correct. Initially we were simply brainstorming, as I had only the desire to write, but not the ideas. With his assistance I was able to discover and create those ideas, culminating in publication very soon. Don't worry," he added hastily, "he is credited as a co-author. It is _our_ work and I am proud to call it such."  
  
The delighted, excited expression that Lynn wore made both men share a quick smile, and Arthur laughed, folding his arms across his chest. "From musician to writer. You always did jump around with your hobbies, Pick, and every time you're successful."  
  
"I'm still a musician, dad, in fact, that's the other news." One word held Elliott's attention, and he leaned over to ask, "Pick?" in his companion's ear. "What do- Oh! That's right, I never told you," Lysander giggled, "that's dad's nickname for me. Y'know, guitar pick. I was crazy skinny when I was growing up, and I started learning guitar really early on. But yeah," he continued, addressing his parents again, "one of my friends in town put together a band, and I joined up on bass. Elliott got pulled in for piano, and we just had our first gig last night at one of the summer festivals here."  
  
Arthur laughed again and applauded. "Nice! I had just hoped to hear that the old farm was treating you well, but this is even better."  
  
"Well, I am doing well there, I'm making a decent income and can start expanding a couple of things again soon, but that's just income. The book and the band are _fun_."  
  
For at least a quarter of an hour they conversed, and already Elliott felt like "a part of the family." The chat might have gone on longer, but Arthur and Lynn had a few things to take care of and would have to depart shortly. With a few last goodbyes and well-wishes, Lysander disconnected the call, put down his empty mug, and hugged Elliott fiercely and warmly around the chest.  
  
"They like you _so_ much, love, this was great."  
  
Elliott set aside his likewise-empty mug and returned the hug, followed by a soft, prolonged kiss. All of the trepidation, fear, and pain that he'd carried that morning were completely dispelled. It had all gone right!  
  
Glancing outside once Elliott had pulled back, Lysander squeezed his hand and gestured toward the door. "It's still nice and sunny out. Let's have a quick sit in the sun for a bit. I feel so good after all of this."  
  
"I also feel significantly better for having made both calls," Elliott agreed, following him outside, "I feel slightly foolish for how much I had worried, but at the same time, I think that my concerns were valid at the time."  
  
He sat down in the sand in front of the porch and leaned back against it for support, and Lysander happily snuggled up into his arms, resting against him. Arms around his partner, Elliott relaxed into the comforting warmth of the mid-summer heat and Lysander's body. Strangely, all of the stress of the day _now_ caught up to him, and his shoulders shook a little as he tried to hold back the emotion. Noticing this and becoming concerned, Lysander turned a little in Elliott's hold, and upon seeing the tears, turned around completely and put a hand on his face, brushing his hair out of the way with the other.  
  
"Love, what's wrong? I thought you said that everything was just fine."  
  
"It is, but..." He felt extremely silly about this, and almost couldn't keep himself under control. "But it very nearly wasn't. I do not like to engage in pointless 'what ifs,' but the thought of mother disapproving of you and our relationship, I... I do not know what I would have done. I would never abandon you, my dear, you are precious to me, but to turn my back on my family, after everything that they have given me, it would have been the height of rudeness and discourtesy to throw it all away. The thought of being torn between these two worlds, I..."  
  
Smiling and sighing, Lysander removed his round-rimmed sunglasses and hung them off of the collar of his shirt, brushing away tears with gentle fingers. "I know and understand your fear, love. I haven't dealt with it myself, but I have been with people who did, and I respected their position every time. This time, though, I have found something amazing and wonderful that I want to protect and love, and I won't let you go. Tell me anything, everything, so you don't have to carry this alone again. You had expressed your concern earlier today but I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I'm sorry, I won't do that again. I promise to be the partner that you deserve."  
  
It wasn't as though Lysander wasn't eloquent, but this sort of thing was normally Elliott's style, and for a moment he was silent with surprise. Then he laughed, pressing a kiss to Lysander's palm and holding it against his cheek a bit longer. "Thank you, my dear. I had not expressed my full concerns because I did not want to be a bother, and anyway, I did not know if there were anything that could have been done about it, so I chose not to cause potential trouble. I shall be more open in the future as well."  
  
He pulled Lysander back into that firm, enveloping hug, and his companion melted into it with satisfaction. For a while they sat together this way, watching the waves roll in and out, hearing the crash of the surf, and tasting the salty mist blowing from over the ocean as it mixed with the hot, dry air off of the sands. But as the shadows grew longer and the air cooled a little, they knew that it was time to get up and take care of evening tasks at their respective homes. But not _immediately_ , as Lysander again turned around in Elliott's hold to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him again, tangling his fingers in his hair and collar, quite enjoying himself.  
  
"If this is how we shall end every day then I will develop a strange fondness for departures," Elliott chuckled, and Lysander giggled and nibbled his ear before standing up and offering a hand to help him do the same.  
  
"Then I'll have to start doing that first thing in the morning, too, just to balance it all out. So remember this one until I get back tomorrow, 'kay?"  
  
"There will be little else to occupy my mind," he replied, giving him one last hug, "and I shall rest well for having exorcised my inner demons."  
  
Lysander went back into the cabin once more to pick up Resonance and his phone, then brushed Elliott's lips with a quick kiss as he squeezed his hand. The memory of that warm smile, touch, and affection occupied Elliott's thoughts as he had said they would, and he didn't mind one moment of it. Taking care of any final chores and tasks around his home before bed, he undressed as he always did and set his phone to charge on the nightstand as he made himself comfortable under the sheets.  
  
 _Such a bright future ahead of us. I do not know what it will bring, but what has transpired so far already gives me hope, and that is something that I thought lost to me before. Where shall we go from here? How will our relationship advance and mature? Ah, I will not speculate needlessly. I have always planned everything meticulously, but in this case, I must let it go where it takes us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	36. What's on Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This is already half the length of book 1 and I'm only partway through summer. Oh gods, this will never end, will it?//

Those pleasant thoughts translated into dreams, ones that were _extremely_ pleasant, but also were ones that left him slightly embarrassed when he awoke. He _would_ like to do those sorts of things with Lysander eventually, but this was a bit too soon!   
  
_Not for a lack of desire, that is for certain,_ Elliott thought to himself as he got out of bed, _but the way he hesitated in reciprocating my advances, and from what I have been able to glean of his past... I am certain that though he would be an enthusiastic and devoted lover something holds him back. It is best to support him quietly while he works out his issues at his own pace. But what I would not give to be able do more than just hold him, to be able to touch that magnificent form with abandon..._  
  
He stepped into the shower and relished the tingle of the hot water against his skin as he let his mind wander, idly following that thread of thought as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. This one, like many before it, led to much more intimate ones, that produced a particular reaction that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't as though he didn't like it, or the thoughts that followed as he took care of it, but it did feel as though he were disrespecting Lysander a little. Even so, Elliott was a healthy man with needs and desires, and they had to be met _somehow_. With a wry smile to himself, he felt it was safe to assume that he wasn't the only one...  
  
Much later he shut off the water, feeling quite refreshed (in several senses of the word!) and dried off before changing into warm, bright colors. The silver earrings were, as usual, the last to be affixed as he left the bedroom. Also as usual, a coffee was made before he sat down at his laptop, but he didn't open it, instead pulling one of the magazines off of the shelf and flipping to the story that he'd submitted to it many months ago. With a faint smile he sat and read, feeling the giddy sensation of success; back then he'd only hoped and dreamed. Now it was a reality! Laughing with merriment, he put aside the magazine when he finished his coffee, then put the mug in the sink, picked up the bag he used for his grocery shopping, and stepped outside. He could tell that the day was going to be hot but lovely, and the breeze was refreshingly cool. As he walked, he wondered if this had been good training for Lysander and Alex, and he made a mental note to ask later.  
  
"Elliott! Hey! How are you?" someone called to him, and he turned around to see Leah trotting up, looking happy to see him.  
  
It just then occurred to him that they'd not spoken in a couple of weeks and he felt a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over him. "Oh, I am dreadfully sorry, I've not said anything in ages," he apologized, but was waved off with a laugh.  
  
"It's okay, from what I hear, you've been busy lately."  
  
"That I have," he smiled, then noticed that they were fairly close to the saloon. "I have a few minutes to spare, actually, perhaps we can catch up over coffee?"  
  
"Your boyfriend won't get jealous?" she giggled, then laughed again as Elliott blushed even more deeply. "Oh wow, you've got it _bad_. That's so sweet! C'mon, let's get that coffee and you can tell me all about what I've missed."  
  
They got their drinks and grabbed a two-person table, and Leah put her chin in her hands and listened with rapt fascination as Elliott filled her in on everything that had happened the last couple of months; Lysander and his initial musical collaboration, then their work together on the novel, the practice and performance with the band... She noticed with amusement that when speaking of himself he was the reserved person she had always known, but when he spoke of Lysander, he became more animated and expressive, smiling broadly and speaking with enthusiasm. At some point he realized that he was dominating the conversation and apologized, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
"I asked you to talk, and that's what you did. It's fine! And I'm so happy for you, I totally am. You two are so great together. He's really brought out something wonderful in you. You were so quiet and stuff, and after hooking up you've just...wow." She glanced off at nothing for a moment as she thought, then turned her attention back to him. "How _did_ you hook up, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
"We... That is, I..." He took a sip of his drink to order his thoughts, then smiled softly. "It was strangely mutual. The both of us had been interested in finding a relationship with each other for a little while, but were worried that the other wasn't. It took a small misunderstanding to clear it up, and..." The warmth and happiness of that memory almost brought tears to his eyes, from the relief that it had gone well, when it almost didn't. "It was the day that I had finished my novel. With his help I had found and achieved my dream, one that for so long had seemed impossible. I resolved to tell him what I truly felt, and strangely, he had been nudged to do the same the day before."  
  
In his silence, Leah studied him, and when he noticed it he jumped a little in surprise and cleared his throat. She shook her head and drank the last of her coffee. "He is _such_ a good influence for you. You've come a long way, you should be proud of yourself."  
  
"...I am. But I am also proud of him and his own accomplishments. We have helped each other in this journey, and I hope to continue doing so for many years to come."  
  
"Already thinking long-term?" she teased, snorting with laughter as he gasped and put his face in his hands. "You are _precious!_ Lys is just so lucky, I'm almost jealous." Elliott wasn't quite sure how to follow this, but welcomed the friendly pat on his hand as she stood up. "It looks like you were running an errand, and I've gotta run off to do something myself. But this was great, I'll hafta drop in at your place some time again. Hope I won't interrupt anything," she winked, and giggled again as Elliott turned another shade of light crimson.  
  
"We aren't- That is, our relationship isn't that..."  
  
"Completely _precious_. He totally deserves you. Anyway, I'll see you later. Bye!"  
  
Absentmindedly, he returned the dismissal and finished his own drink before departing. He had been terribly remiss in contacting pretty much _everyone_ lately. This was something that he'd have to make an effort to change. But then, most of his time and thoughts had been focused on one person... Leah was right, he did "have it bad," but it felt so good.  
  
The grocery stop was a quick affair, and he returned to his cabin with just enough time to put away his purchases before picking up his satchel and heading off to the community center. This double round trip was a bit of a nuisance, but he needed the exercise, and it was already shaping up to be a lovely day. He intercepted Lysander where the road from his house met the plaza, and greeted his companion with a soft hug. However, there was something a bit off about the musician's demeanor that Elliott couldn't quite put his finger on, but said nothing of it.  
  
However, as they walked and conversed, Elliott noticed that Lysander seemed to be somewhat withdrawn and distant, as though there was an inner pain he was trying to mask. Elliott asked about it, prodding it from a couple of different angles, concerned for his partner's health, and wondered if he had also been concerned about the previous day's conversations. All hypotheses were rejected with a fond smile and the shrugged statement that he had quite enjoyed both calls and felt much better for having had them. But he did acknowledge that there _was_ something nibbling and niggling at the back of his mind, something that he couldn't quite address just yet, and one that he didn't feel comfortable coming to others about.  
  
This didn't reassure Elliott at all, and he pressured Lysander a bit, hoping to tease out some small bit of information, but again, he was rebuffed. It was just "noise" in his head, as he put it, "lots of leftover bits and fragments from my past life. I ran away because when I fought it I screwed it all up. Getting together with you has helped a lot, more than you know. But there’s still a lot of darkness in there. Lots of things still tangled and messed up.” Once again this was far from satisfactory, and Elliott offered his assistance, but Lysander was steadfast. "It’s not that I won’t, it’s that right now I outright can’t. It’s too much of a mess," he explained. He didn't know if he could describe what was going on without causing more confusion and trouble, and in any case, he didn't think he could forgive himself for his actions.  
  
 _Why do you push me away with such ferocity, my dear? Let me help you, let me stand by and support you. You no longer need to fight alone. And forgiveness? What is it that you have done that you think puts you beyond redemption?_  
  
Reminded of Alex's remarks after the Luau, he brought it up, and Lysander went silent, looking away and biting his lip.  
  
 _I continue to unravel this tangled skein. You and someone dear to you hurt each other deeply, and for reasons you have not yet revealed you refuse to forgive yourself. Why?_  
  
Pushing him further would yield nothing constructive, and would likely make things worse. With a sigh, he relented. "Very well, I won’t pry. I understand that there are some matters that take time to work through and must be done alone. But I do hope that you trust me enough to open up about it some day." Hugging him with an arm around his waist and fingers gently brushing his cheek, Elliott smiled to take the edge off of his words. "Do not feel that you need to hold anything back because of me. And whatever it was that happened in your past I want you to be able to forgive yourself for it, regardless of the situation or outcome. Bring back that person I fell in love with. I saw that once more the other night on the sands, don’t let it fade again."  
  
These seemed to be the words that his partner wanted to hear, and with a quirked half-smile, he promised that as soon as he'd gotten something untangled that he would come to him with it. "I avoided it for a long time but I’m finally able to start poking around in my own thoughts. Thanks for being patient with me.”  
  
Their moment together was interrupted by Sam's arrival and his unrepentant snark, which rather killed the mood. Despite this, what had needed to be said had been, as well as all that could have. Practice went as it usually did, and as they locked up the community center for the night Lysander suddenly remembered that he was going to follow Sebastian home to borrow a book.   
  
"G'nite love, catch you tomorrow," he grinned, giving Elliott that warm, tingling kiss that he was getting accustomed to enjoying every day. The copper-haired man took one of the offered strawberry-flavored cigarettes when it was offered by Sebastian, and waved as the two of them walked off.  
  
 _Such a strange aroma, one of these days I'll have to sample it myself. Though likely second-hand of a sort! And he conceals his thoughts so easily, yet it is not natural to him. He is open and honest by nature, and to keep secrets like this is unnatural and painful. But even more so are the secrets that he hides. My dearest, please, talk to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	37. Justified Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Poor Elliott, things were going so well, and then they very nearly didn't. Good thing both he and Alex were there!//

They continued to visit every day, either meeting up en route to practice, or sit and spend a day together when there was none. To Elliott's concern, with each passing day, Lysander seemed to become more and more fatigued, as though whatever was gnawing at his mind was also consuming his body as well. When in conversation or doing something he was his usual, vibrant self, but when left to his own devices or given a moment for silence, Elliott saw pain that he wore all too visibly. Elliott tried to back off, to let him deal with this on his own, but couldn't hide the pain in his own touch, the strained restraint in his kiss and lingering hold in his hug. Lysander continued to insist that it was just bad dreams. That sort of thing just happened, you know!  
  
Elliott was a little better about remembering town events now, and made sure that Lysander was aware of the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies one night, and that morning, confronted him about his concerns. Sighing and giving him that warm, soft smile that never failed to make Elliott smile in return, Lysander took away the hairbrush that Elliott was gently running through his hair, having just got dressed after a shower only minutes before his partner's arrival. Lysander gently pushed him to sit in his chair, then stood behind him to brush out the slightly-damp tangles, and Elliott opened the laptop to make a few notes.  
  
"It means a lot that you care enough to be worried about me, but really, it's okay," he soothed, pausing to brush Elliott's cheek with his fingers, "it's just a string of bad nights, love, because I've been digging around in the scarier parts of my memories. It'll vanish soon. There's nothing wrong." There was honest confidence in his words, but Elliott wasn't quite swayed yet, and Lysander knew it. "Look at me," he chuckled, "not lying, see?"  
  
Leaning back to be able to look up at his companion, he scrutinized his face for signs of, well, _anything_ , but only saw the familiar smile of contentment he usually wore when around him. "No, you are not," Elliott finally sighed, still unconvinced. As Lysander continued to brush out his hair, he once again voiced his desire to help, as he could tell that Lysander was hiding something which caused him pain, but respected him enough to know his own limits. "I understand that there are some things that must be resolved by one’s self, and you are a born warrior."  
  
Lysander riposted with a cheeky remark that he was more of a "rogue" than a "warrior" as he set aside the hairbrush, and kissed Elliott's cheek as he wrapped his arms around his neck from behind, and had a laugh at him trying to hide a smile. "Now, tell me about this thing going on tonight. Some kind of migration?" With a nod, Elliott gave him a basic explanation of the event, reminded of his first time seeing it the year before, and feeling excited for Lysander being able to experience it the same way as well. "That sounds pretty neat," Lysander commented, playing with a lock of Elliott's hair, "so you can see it from the shore?"  
  
This was also affirmed, but Elliott pointed out that it was much nicer to view from the pier. Lysander's hold suddenly tightened around his shoulders, and he asked him if something was wrong, to which he replied that while things weren't exactly wrong, they weren't quite right. Puzzled, Elliott turned a little to look up at him again and asked him his thoughts, finding this sudden hesitation to be strange. Looking away, Lysander stepped back as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking for the right words.  
  
"I..." he began, then sighed and shook his head. "Okay, it's silly as hell, but I don’t know how to swim. At all. And I’m kinda hydrophobic. I’m terribly uncomfortable around water that I can’t see the bottom or far side of." He laughed sardonically at the irony of dating someone who lived directly adjacent to a large body of water.  
  
Feeling reassured that there wasn't anything to be worried about, Elliott provided it himself, as now and then one's fears were legitimate. "If you trust me, I will be your..." Realizing what he was about to say, his lips twisted in a dark smile. "I suppose 'anchor' is exactly the wrong term to use in this case." He promised to be supportive in any way that he could and that he wouldn't let him fall, which seemed to be what Lysander needed to hear, and he asked that Elliott not laugh about it.  
  
"I mean, go figure," he chuckled, "I can dance for an entire town of people without blinking an eye, but the thought of stepping onto that dock just sends chills down my spine."  
  
Elliott could see the embarrassment that Lysander was trying to hide, and immediately felt the need to reach out to him. Clearly this was a dire phobia, one that he likely hadn't mentioned to anyone else before. Taking his wrist, he tugged gently and pulled his partner into his lap, which was gratefully accepted. Lysander snuggled into his hold and relaxed, and requested piano lessons again, ostensibly to take his mind off of the previous topic. Elliott was happy to oblige, but first wanted a little time to hold him like that; it was quite nice, although he considered (yet again) picking up a better chair for this sort of thing.  
  
After an hour of lessons they got up to wait outside for everyone else, discarding shoes and outerwear to place on the porch, and their friends did the same as they arrived. Lysander was enjoying the warmth and sun, and flopped onto the sand, absorbing the warmth that it had taken in over the day. As they waited for dark, they chatted about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company, but as soon as the sun touched the horizon, everyone got up and went to the pier on the far eastern edge of the beach. Lysander sat up but didn't get up, glancing warily in the direction that their friends were going.  
  
With a gentle smile, Elliott offered a hand. "Come on dear, it's time. I'm here, trust me." Still wary, Lysander accepted his hand and stood up, shaking the sand off of himself and out of his clothes as he walked. Once he'd finished adjusting his clothes, Elliott squeezed his hand supportively, earning a smile, and Lysander walked a little less hesitantly.  
  
This lasted until they reached the pier, where Lysander stopped short and his hold on Elliott's hand tightened. Elliott saw and felt Lysander's hands shaking, but before he could do anything, his partner gripped his wrist with both hands, biting his lip as he kept his gaze firmly on the pier. Their friends had noticed their slow, measured approach, which made Lysander turn a deep shade of crimson, mumbling that he wasn't comfortable around large bodies of water, as he couldn't swim.  
  
Laughing and cuffing his friend on the arm (which made Lysander snarl in fear), Sam remarked the same thing that he'd remarked earlier in the cabin, that he was dating the person living by the ocean despite his phobia and lack of swimming ability. Abigail also took the opportunity to tease him, which earned her a glare of disdain as well, while he let go of one hand just long enough to put it around Elliott's waist, and he reciprocated with an arm around his shoulders. Again he felt his partner relax, and felt pleased to himself that he was able to continually provide physical comfort despite his mental misgivings.  
  
They didn't have long to wait before the show began, and Elliott smiled as Lysander forgot his fears and watched the water with wide-eyed fascination; soft pastel colors illuminated the water from under its surface, pulsing gently as they made their journey. Elliott remembered how remarkable and inspiring it had been the year before, and wondered if Lysander felt the same sense of wonder that he'd felt back then. There was silence as they watched, and Elliott lost track of the time, surprised when the last of the lights had drifted out of sight and the ocean was again as dark as the moonless sky above. Such a romantic evening, this had been delightful!  
  
Movement and chatter resumed as the silent magic wore off, and Lysander reached over with his other hand to grip the pylon nearby, no longer as relaxed as he was earlier, but not as tense as he had been. Haley commented about wanting to purchase a camera good enough to film it for the next year, and Elliott noticed Sam and Alex playfully sparring, as apparently the prolonged quietness and stillness had wound up the smaller man, and he was burning off energy. Not paying attention to them, Lysander rested his head on Elliott's shoulder, still not completely comfortable out there like that, but expressing the desire to make the effort to change.  
  
Then, Elliott staggered as Lysander shoved him aside for no reason he could discern, impacting Alex and sending them both onto the pier in a heap. Before he could figure out the reason for the sudden rough handling, he saw the end-result of a chain of events of which he'd not seen the beginning, where Lysander frantically tried to grab the pylon again for purchase, missing completely when Sam stumbled into and bounced off of him. This might not have been initially bad, but in Sam's attempt to regain his own balance he ended up clipping Lysander on the jaw under his ear with his elbow, momentarily stunning him. Without further resistance, Lysander collapsed, falling off of the pier and into the water below.  
  
Disentangling himself in panic from the athlete, Elliott scrambled to his feet and dove off after his partner, almost inhaling in shock from the sudden chill of the water. Lysander had just regained his senses, but too late; he ineffectively lashed out as he sank deeper and panic set in. Not a strong swimmer himself, Elliott pursued his stricken companion, already feeling the bands of pressure tighten around his chest as they both went deeper, barely closing the distance between the two of them.  
  
 _No, I'm not swift enough! My dear, please, hold out just a bit longer!_  
  
Lysander's struggles were getting weaker, and Elliott almost couldn't see him anymore, as the new-moon night provided almost no light, especially this deep. Just as he reached and securely grabbed him, Lysander stopped resisting. Damn it, damn!! The return to the surface went too slowly, with Elliott now burdened with Lysander's limp form and only one arm to propel himself upward. With aching lungs, Elliott surfaced, coughing as he inhaled a mouthful of seawater as an errant wave broke over his head, temporarily sending him below the water's surface again.  
  
He heard a water-muffled shout of "I've got him!" as something pulled Lysander from his arms, and Elliott gratefully allowed Alex to take over. Finally, Elliott was able to get his head back above water long enough to get his bearings and follow Alex back to shore, shocked at how far away they'd drifted. In short order, Alex was on the beach, pulling Lysander with him, and laying him out on the sand to check his vitals as Elliott made it to shore himself. The coastal shelf had dropped off shortly and sharply from the edge of the beach, no wonder they'd gone down so far!  
  
"Shit, he's not breathing," Alex growled, and Elliott's legs gave out from under him as cold terror lanced through his veins. Immediately the athlete began providing rescue breathing, and for a few moments Elliott forgot how to breathe himself. Haley, Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian hadn't moved from the pier, still trying to process what had happened, and terrified that they had just lost their friend. Eyes burning from salt and tears, Elliott almost didn't have the coordination to drag himself over to the other two; this was taking too long! ...No...  
  
 _My dearest, my undying flame, I have failed you. I made you a promise, I failed to keep it, and I have killed you._  
  
Then Alex sat back on his heels as Lysander coughed, struggling to breathe. Helping turn him over so he could get the water out of his lungs and throat, Alex supported his cousin as he gagged and retched, gasping raggedly. The rest of the group whooped and cheered with relief as Elliott felt the grip of terror finally loosen.  
  
"By the light, you're... Lysander, my dearest, you've... Lysander, can you hear me?" he asked, a hand on his partner's shoulder, which finally got his attention. Blinking, Lysander looked at him with confusion and tried to ask a question, which eased the last of Elliott's fear. "You had us terrified, dear, are you alright?" he asked as Lysander looked around, clearly puzzled.  
  
"No kidding," Alex remarked, looking pleased, "for a minute there we thought you were a goner. Good thing both of us were here.”  
  
Still confused, Lysander was about to ask what had happened, recalling that the last thing he remembered was them all on the pier, when he was interrupted by Sam impacting him with a hug, making him cough up the last of the water that he'd inhaled. Sam apologized in a jumbled rush of words, and Lysander stopped him to ask him what he meant before his vision unfocused and the memories suddenly came to him. Releasing him, Sam sat back on his heels and wiped his eyes as Lysander remembered what had happened and began to shake again, going into shock. Before Elliott could go to him, Lysander beat him to it, getting up to stagger over and drop into his lap, face against Elliott's chest as he broke down in tears.  
  
"I almost lost you," Elliott whispered, fingers knotted tightly in Lysander's hair and shirt, "for a moment I thought that the one light in my life had gone out."  
  
Alex pointed out that Lysander was only alive because Elliott had responded immediately and was the one to recover him, and all that he'd done was get him back to shore. Acknowledging this, Elliott returned that it had been a team effort, as Alex had also provided the rescue breathing that had brought him back. Sebastian asked where Alex had learned to do that in the first place, as it wasn't a skill that one would normally acquire. Two years of swim team in school had provided this ability, in addition to toning and cardio that he'd been seeking to round out his gridball training.  
  
Now a little calmer, Lysander still clung to Elliott, but no longer felt the need to cry. "Sorry, love, I just..." he began, and sniffed as he tried to find his thoughts, "that's the second time I nearly... You really risked yourself for me?"  
  
Ever as always, even after nearly dying, he was concerned for someone else! Elliott brushed damp hairs from his partner's face, relieved that he was already doing better. "There are some things that are worth risking everything for, because without them life isn’t worth living.”  
  
It was a little sappy, but it was honest and heartfelt, and Elliott felt no embarrassment for it. Nobody gave him cheek for it, though, as everyone was feeling the chill of the evening, even those who hadn't gone for the impromptu swim. They gathered at the fire pit in front of the cabin, and Elliott reluctantly broke away from Lysander only for the time it took to obtain the fire-starting items that he kept near the fireplace. Despite the summer's heat, the wood had a bit of moisture from the evening and permanent proximity to the coast, and was slow to catch fire. It eventually did, providing the elements that everyone needed, and the group clustered tightly around it, almost as tightly as Lysander held onto his companion again.  
  
"Sorry again," he apologized, "feeling a bit clingy at the moment."  
  
Almost as firmly, Elliott held him in return, kissing the top of his head. “It’s quite alright. I’m the one who must apologize. I promised to not let you fall and failed to uphold my vow.”  
  
Abigail was the next to offer apologies, for teasing him about his fears despite his efforts to overcome them. Waving it away as he took a lit cigarette from Sebastian, he took a drag from it before glancing at Elliott and apologizing himself, offering to move.  
  
"Stay, it's alright," Elliott soothed with a smile, "I don't mind this. Rather, the smoky scent of strawberry settles on you well. This sort of thing suits you."  
  
They chatted quietly, though it was Lysander doing most of the talking, and though he was still a little rattled from the experience, it was over now, and he was fine, so everything was alright. Sam had been silent and downcast ever since Lysander had revived, but now the familiar mischief returned as he snickered and fixed Alex with his usual face-splitting grin.  
  
"Hey, Alex." At the other man's reply of inquiry, he grinned even wider. "You totally kissed your cousin."  
  
As Lysander choked on his cigarette, Alex stared at Sam, trying to figure out what the hell he meant. "What are you on about?"  
  
"After you pulled him out of the water. Don't deny it, we all saw it."  
  
It took only a few more seconds for Alex to make the connection and groan loudly with frustration. "That was rescue breathing, you doofus!"  
  
Sam laughed and accused him of making out with his "hot cousin," to which Lysander shot back that, “it wasn’t proper ‘making out’ because there was no tongue involved." He did agree that he was the "hot cousin," though, so any thoughts that Alex had of him were completely reasonable, and Alex threatened to pitch the both of them into the water, to the merriment of everyone present.  
  
Once everyone had dried off, the group retrieved their belongings and left for their homes. Lysander gave Sam a warm, brotherly hug, promising that there was no animosity, which finally convinced the spiky-haired man of his sincerity. Finally alone, Elliott held and kissed Lysander with determined desperation, refusing to let go until they needed to breathe again. Lysander joked that Elliott still seemed bothered, and he didn't deny it. "I almost lost you tonight," he sighed, tracing gentle fingers down the side of his partner's face, "for a while I will worry that every kiss might be our last."  
  
That energetic fire had returned, as Lysander chuckled and grinned. “Well, every one for me feels like the first time, so I suppose we balance each other out.” He echoed the smile that Elliott finally wore, asking him not to worry any further, but there was something that Elliott remembered that _did_ worry him.  
  
"Earlier you said it was the 'second time.' You've nearly died once before, haven't you?" The sudden, painful silence as he looked away and asked to not talk about it at the moment made Elliott relent a little, but only for the moment. "I will not press further. But knowing that twice now you have evaded the Reaper makes me even more concerned for your safety.” Lysander attempted to make a joke about this, that he seemed to be getting better at it now, so it wasn't a concern, but saw how it fell flat along with Elliott's spirits, and promised to be more careful, as well as that he wasn't going to be going anywhere.  
  
It had been a long day, with a sudden moment of peril, and they both felt the weight of the day pressing upon them. Sharing one last, quick kiss, Lysander gathered his belongings and returned home. Elliott closed the front door behind himself, went to his bedroom, and undressed and set aside his clothes to wash properly before diving into a shower. His clothes didn't look to have been damaged from this maritime excursion, but even then, an outfit was a tiny price to pay in exchange for his beloved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	38. The Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Um, so, long story short, I was doing maintenance on my system, and about twelve hours later I'm trying to find a recovery disk to reload my operating system. It's a bit like doing the dishes and then having to explain to the police the dead body in the kitchen while the fire department puts out the blaze. Things just went very, VERY wrong. I should be back soon. ...I hope...
> 
> Update: a new boot drive and a fresh OS are on order, hopefully should have a functioning system tomorrow, and everything "as it was" the day after. We had planned to do an upgrade eventually, but not this soon, and not like this!
> 
> CHAPTER UPDATE: Woo-hoo! I live again! It took a bit of tinkering and a LOT of installing and sitting patiently while it all did so, but I have a functional system again, and with a couple of upgrades! I gotta say, I've been doing updates three times a week since, what June? And this is the first time I've had to take a break from that. Pretty goddamn impressive for a fan project, if I'm allowed a bit of narcissism. ;) Back to the story//

 

The next three days produced no answers.  Rather, Lysander continued to withdraw further from Elliott, even though it wasn’t intentional.  There was hesitation in his kisses, a slight twitch and flinch when Elliott tried to hold him, a listlessness to his words…  Elliott didn’t want to pry, he respected Lysander’s privacy and the need to resolve his issues on his own, but this, it taxed him as well.  Others noticed it, and though most everyone tried to hide their concern and curiosity (except for Leah, who did ask him privately one day if there was something going on and if she could help), it was obvious that the strain between them was visible.  Even those not physically present were aware of something being amiss, as even Charles picked up on something not being quite right when talking with Elliott one day, but Elliott assured him that things were just fine, and his brother begrudgingly accepted the statement and changed the subject.  Like Elliott, everyone knew that it was between the two men and therefore none of their business, but Elliott knew that it was Lysander’s issue, and therefore none of _his_ business.

…But still…

The stress continued to take its toll on the copper-haired man’s health as well as his mental state, and one day he arrived to the park for practice much later than he normally did, having not visited Elliott at his home beforehand (which the author found worrying but not insulting).  Huffing in mock irritation, Abigail playfully complained that the day that she had something interesting to show him was the one day he was running behind.  The look of fatigue on his face faded as she showed him a sword she’d just been talking about with everyone else.

Impressed, he took the weapon as she explained that she’d found it when she was in the storage room looking for something, and wondered if he’d had any weapons training, given his extensive theater history and propensity for taking odd college courses.  With nearly-expert eyes, he examined the weapon from one end to the other, awed at what he saw.  As he inspected it, he commented aloud about what he noticed, and Elliott found himself quite amazed at the depth and breadth of Lysander’s knowledge about not only weapons, but weaponsmithing.

It was a shortsword, given the weight and size of the weapon, and quality materials had been used in its construction, as both leather and metal were still serviceable and intact, though a bit of oiling and professional care would go to great lengths in restoring the weapon.  Having thoroughly inspected the exterior, he drew the blade from the scabbard, and was suitably impressed.

“Oh, VERY nice.  This was forged, not cast,” he said, mouth open wide with awed glee, “look, you can see the layers from where it’s been folded in on itself several times.  Looks like a good carbon-steel.  No…”  His eyes went wide as the light caught it just right and he gasped with sudden realization.  “Oh _wow_ , that color, I think this is nickel-steel.  This is a meteorite sword!  Yeah, look at that dark color, with the light speckling.  I think they used a ferric chloride etch on it, too, to further enhance the starry-night look and give it that lovely rippling pattern.”

He turned it back and forth a couple of times to let the light play off of it and demonstrate what he had pointed out.  “This is beautiful, it’s Damascus-quality.  A master smith must have spent ages working on something like this; nickel-steel alloys can be a right nuisance to fold properly, and I bet they mixed in a bit of spring steel so it would fold and hammer out without separating.”

Glancing up, he grinned wryly as he realized that everyone was staring at him silently, but with fascination, not irritation.  Sam laughed and asked if he’d dated a blacksmith to have learned all of this.  He hadn’t, but he _had_ dated a metallurgist who was a blacksmithing hobbyist.  Naturally, the next question to be asked was if he knew how to use it, and to nobody’s surprise, he did.  In addition to some stage work that had swordfighting, he had also taken fencing classes.  The one skill set that would be most useful, though, was having taken Tai Chi, and that class had used a short sword similar to this one.  Also naturally, this was a show that nobody wanted to miss, and everyone made themselves comfortable on the benches as Lysander familiarized himself with the weight and balance of the sword.

Such elegance, such grace…  Elliott watched his partner flow and dance, moving with the forms effortlessly, treating the weapon as an extension of himself and shifting between stances effortlessly.

_My dearest, you never fail to surprise me.  I am entranced and enraptured.  I know what it is like to be held in those hands as you dance, and for a moment I feel jealousy toward an inanimate object._

As he completed the forms, he changed the last few steps to reach down and pick up the scabbard, neatly tying it into the final stance and sheathing the sword, bowing to applause.  For a moment Elliott forgot his earlier frustration with his partner as Lysander sat down next to him, giving him that smile that Elliott knew belonged to him alone.  The private moment was interrupted by Abigail asking for lessons, and Sam teasing him about his personal choice of “classes,” which was some sort of gaming reference that Elliott didn’t quite get and would have to ask about later.  Lysander riposted that actually, no, swords of this sort were a Rogue’s weapon, as they were more dexterous than the heavier strength-based weapons other combat classes would use.

“Though I’m much better with knives, I admit, as I’m _very_ good with my hands,” he grinned, leering at Elliott.  Catching the subtext and feeling a little relieved that Lysander appeared to be recovering from whatever was bothering him, Elliott laughed softly.

Sam wondered what _sort_ of knives he knew how to use, using Abigail’s butterfly knife as an example.  “Those are dangerous, dude,” he added, probably having been on the receiving end of that object more than once.  Yet again, this was a skill that Lysander possessed, and when Abigail mockingly offered it to him to prove his point, she seemed surprised that he was so quick to take it.

With a cheeky grin, Lysander twirled it with elegant skill, almost not bothering to pay attention.  His carelessness caught up with him, though, and he lost control for a fraction of a second, dropping it.  Elliott cringed as Lysander grabbed for it without thinking, hissing in pain as he succeeded in catching it, but by the very sharp blade.  Catching it properly by the handle as he dropped it for the second time, he swore between his teeth before apologizing to Abigail for getting blood on it.  He glanced at his injured hand and trailed off, his vision unfocusing as he thought of something.

This was concerning, and Elliott waited a moment before standing to approach him, noticing that something was a little off about his reaction.  The wide but shallow cut was already beginning to pool blood, and Lysander stared at it, swaying a little on his feet.  The knife fell from his fingers again as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, his other hand over his mouth, apparently fighting the urge to vomit as he gasped around his fingers for breath, in the middle of a panic attack.  This sudden change startled Elliott, but only for a moment, and he took a knee next to his partner and took his arm, trying to steady him.

“Lysander?  Talk to us, what happened?”

This seemed to help a little, and after a few seconds he was able to catch his breath.  “I’m…” he began, still looking quite ill, “it’s…  Memory.  A bad memory.”  He cut himself off again, holding his breath, eyes closed, lost in the terror inside of his own mind.

“Dear, what memory?” Elliott asked, putting a hand to the side of Lysander’s face, “look at me, please.”  Eventually, he did, though unsteadily, and told him to not worry, it was something that had just happened in the past.  Annoyed, Elliott’s grip on his arm tightened a little.  “The hell I will _not_ worry.  You very nearly perished a few nights ago, and now you have this reaction to a small injury.  Dear, tell me, what happened in your past?”

Lysander clearly wanted to say something, but nothing came out.  “…I can’t tell you,” he finally whispered, “not yet.  Light help me, not yet.  I’m sorry.  Please don’t be angry, I can’t…”

_This is not the time or the place.  But this MUST be addressed at some point.  This is not a simple phobia or an event that is merely unpleasant, this was an incident that caused you suffering that had never healed.  Why won’t you tell me?_

This injury needed to be dealt with now, and finding a handkerchief in his pocket, he used it to apply pressure to the wound, helping Lysander get to his feet as he did so.  Finally in control of himself, Lysander was finally able to joke a little, that his keys were always in his left pocket, and that was the hand that he’d injured.  At his request, Elliott rummaged in that pocket to obtain the keys for the community center and asked if he wanted an escort to the medical clinic.  This was politely refused, explaining that he wanted to use the walk to gather his thoughts and collect himself.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he smiled, “this shouldn’t need stitches, I don’t think I cut myself _that_ bad.”  His grin slipped a little as Elliott stopped halfway in attempting to reach over to him, and instead turned and walked away.  Looking through the keys, Elliott set his jaw firmly and blinked back tears as he stalked toward the community center.

_You do not trust me.  Why?  You hide so much, and you have been pushing me away so hard lately.  What have I done?  Have I hurt you?  Have I insulted you?  Do I smother you without realizing it?  I have tried so hard to not intrude or interfere, but this silence hurts, sharp and stinging, as though it were a knife wound itself.  My dear, what has happened?_

He unlocked and opened the door, stuffing the keys in his pocket, and went to the piano and sat down stiffly, his own silence quite loud.  The others filed in, likewise quiet.  Wordlessly, they set up their respective pieces of equipment and, when finished, examined the music, did some minor maintenance or testing, or simply waited.  The tension was palpable, and nobody wanted to be the first to break the silence.  His back to the others, Elliott was well aware that he was the source of the tension, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

Eventually, he heard the familiar sound of Lysander’s boots outside and looked up, noticing the bandage on his partner’s hand.  Lysander offered a small nod of greeting to everyone, trying to find a smile, and Sam took it upon himself to bring about a bit of levity.

“Wow, moody and bleeding,” he smirked, “guess you’re on your _man_ -strual cycle, hunh?”

This was somehow exactly _not_ what needed to be said, as Lysander snarled and glared at him.  “I am _not_ in the mood for this shit today!”  Even he seemed to be surprised by how rude and harsh his words had been, and at the look of shocked pain that Sam wore, he tensed up and withdrew in on himself.  Without another word, he spun about and stalked toward the door.  Elliott got up and caught up to him, demanding to know why he’d said what he did.

“Nothing,” Lysander replied, sounding like he was still holding back anger, “I…  I'll go.  See you tomorrow when I’m less of an ass about everything.”

_This ends NOW.  I will have no more of this.  Damn it ALL, Lysander, you will not push me aside again!_

“No you won’t, I am done with this,” Elliott interrupted, taking Lysander’s wrist, and glaring back when Lysander gave him a look that plainly told him to back off, “you are going to talk to us and tell us what’s on your mind, right now.”  Roughly pulling his hand away, Lysander muttered that he had a lot on his mind and he’d deal with it himself, and Elliott stepped around to block his path to the door.  “Now _I_ am the one who is not in the mood for this shit today,” he growled, “I am tired of your evasions.  You have never lied to me but you have never told me the full truth.  I demand answers and will not accept any more excuses.”

Lysander’s eyes flashed with anger.  “I’ve never given you excuses.  And I haven’t told you the full truth because I don’t want to hurt or scare you.  Now get out of my way, I need to clear my head.”  He stepped forward to continue, but Elliott would not be budged, snarling that not only would he _not_ move, but that Lysander thought him incapable of comprehending his position and concerns was completely insulting.  “Get out of my way,” he hissed, and at Elliott’s refusal, growled under his breath.  “ _Move_.”

He attempted to force his way around his partner, but Elliott was strong despite his lack of dedicated exercise, and a two-handed shove nearly knocked Lysander off-balance.  “I said ‘no.’  This is not finished.”

“I won’t fight you.  Get the hell out of my way.”

This very impolite request, coupled with the implied statement that Elliott was too weak to fight back, Elliott lost himself to his anger, something that he’d never done before.  “So you will fight Alex at a moment’s notice but dance carefully around me?” he yelled, too angry to think straight, “You asked him behind my back to defend me, as though I were a fragile porcelain doll.  Do you really think that little of me, that I am weak and defenseless?”  Alex’s admission of this fact had never sat well with Elliott, but he’d never mentioned it to anyone, and now, all he could think of was the pain he felt.  Lysander tried to brush him off, saying that Elliott didn’t understand, and again he erupted in fury.  “Of course I don’t!  You’ve never explained yourself.  Every time any sort of conflict seems to come up you shut down and back off.  Do you have any idea how much that hurts?  That the person I love thinks I’m not strong or worthy enough to share their past?”

Lysander was also shouting, hurt as well, and for a moment Elliott felt a flash of sadistic pleasure, knowing that he’d struck true.  “That’s not the point.  I’ve hurt too many people and I promised that I’d never do that again.”

“That’s life, Lysander, pain is something that happens, and you will hurt people.  Sometimes it’s accidental or unavoidable, and what is important is how it is dealt with.”  Snapping back, Lysander asked why Elliott disliked wanting his protection, and Elliott returned the question just as hotly, that he didn’t want it.  “Have you ever considered the possibility that I want to look out for you as well?  That I do not want a protector?  I want an equal, a partner, not a guardian.”

Looking away and shaking his head, Lysander clenched a fist.  “I’m not equal to you, not yet.  I’m still not good enough, and I need to be better.  You deserve better.”

“That is nonsense and you know it.  Stop being foolish,” Elliott shouted, once again feeling the hot sting of tears.

“So I’m a fool for wanting to improve myself?” Lysander asked, his tone cold, but Elliott didn’t notice the dangerous sound, blinded by pain and emotion.

“And now you are deliberately being obtuse.  That is not what I implied, do not twist my words.”  Apparently attempting to end the conversation, Lysander snarled that nothing was going to be accomplished like this, and that he was leaving before he could cause even more problems than he already had, trying to get around Elliott and leave.  Having none of this, Elliott very nearly got a handful of hair as well as he grabbed Lysander by the collar and yanked him back into the room.  “Stop running!”

“I’m not running!” yelled the other man, bristling with fury.

“Then what do you call it?  Evading?” Elliott snapped, “Quit being such a damn coward and take responsibility!”

In an instant, Lysander’s look of shock was replaced by teeth-gritting rage as he clenched his fist even tighter, and the same way he had in his fight with Alex, shifted his weight to the same foot behind himself before redirecting his momentum forward.  His full weight behind it, his fist impacted and actually splintered some of the wood of the wall, too fast for anyone to react to until it had already happened.

_Oh gods…  What have I done…_

Terrified, Elliott hadn’t moved, almost unable to believe that Lysander had not only taken a swing at him, but that he’d done so with so much force, and that at the last second had barely avoided hitting him.  It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that he’d forgotten how to breathe, and that all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.  His partner’s anger dissipated immediately, and Elliott was certain that their expressions were mirrored, though it was Lysander’s turn to fight tears as he unsteadily staggered back, unsteady on his feet.

_No…  Light burn me, no, I…  My dearest, forgive me, I’m so sorry…_

He tried to move over to him, to offer his partner comfort and apologize for what he’d said.  “Dear, are you-“ he began, but got no further, as Lysander shoved past him and ran outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	39. Confessions of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //It was hard enough for Lysander to talk about his past in book 1, but what about everyone else who was hearing it for the first time? And finding out what he'd nearly done? Yikes, it's surprising that Elliott took it so well, but then, this was a lot to take in all at once, and he _did_ have an idea of why he'd done what he did.//

Alex had been watching the exchange silently with everyone else, as he didn’t want to intrude on an affair that wasn’t his.  But when he saw his cousin nearly hit Elliott, he waited, ready to chase, knowing that Lysander would flee instead of fight further.  He wasn’t entirely certain why, but he knew that it was what he’d do, and he was right.  As the other man pushed past his companion and escaped outside, Alex had already begun moving, sprinting after him and grabbing his cousin.  Arms around him from behind, he pinned Lysander’ arms in place, though he could do little about the rest of him as he shouted and flailed ineffectually against the athlete’s greater strength and leverage.

“Bro, what the hell?  Chill out a sec!” he grunted, trying to maintain both his grip and his balance, coming very close to losing both.

“No…  No!” shouted the copper-haired man, now almost frantic, “let me go!  Get away!  Just let me die!”  Shocked, Alex almost let go, but it was enough for Lysander’s panic-boosted strength to free himself, and in doing so, struck Alex in a spot that left stars dancing across his vision for a moment.  Without thinking about it Alex struck back.  He apologized immediately but swore and ducked an angry punch from his cousin, who this time had actually tried to hit him, and with all of his strength.

“Calm the hell down,” he said, holding up his hands as he defended himself and avoided Lysander’s attacks, “this won’t-  Ow!”  The family blood ran hot, apparently, as Alex felt his own anger flare as pain bloomed from a hard elbow-strike to his ribs, and he joined Lysander in battle.  “I will freaking end you!”

Elliott dashed outside and froze, horrified at the spectacle that unfolded.  He had heard Lysander’s anguished demand, cutting him deep to the core, and now he watched the two of them engaged in a fight once more, his partner lashing out in undirected rage, overwhelmed by emotion.  The first time, so many months ago, Lysander had been cheeky and taunting, dancing about and not taking it seriously.  This time, he and Alex were out to destroy each other.  Alex was powerful but slow, and Lysander was fast but didn’t have the same strength.  The longer the battle would last the more chance Lysander had of coming out ahead, but all Alex needed was an opening…

The others had followed Elliott but huddled in the doorway behind him.  Oh gods, what had he done?  This was all his fault!  He watched helplessly, almost unable to follow the action, wincing as they both landed blows on the other but still refused to go down or give up.  Then, after Lysander had snuck in a sharp jab to Alex’s chin and took a rib-strike the same way he’d done to Alex earlier, the musician backed off momentarily, getting enough space to get his breath back.

_I must stop him myself.  I caused this, all of this suffering, and I am the one that needs to suffer for it, not them._

Reaching out and grabbing Lysander’s arm, he prepared himself to be attacked, but that fist never came.  Lysander turned and hissed at him angrily, then his eyes went wide as for a moment his true nature grabbed control, temporarily halting his rampage.  Before either of them could react, Alex used this opportunity to grab Lysander in a choke hold, trying to end the fight without bloodshed by withholding circulation and breath from his opponent.  Fear traded places with anger, and he once again flailed in Alex’s grip.  This time, however, Alex had the advantage of both surprise and leverage, and in seconds his quarry went limp in his grip.

Almost dropping him, Alex sighed with relief and set him down carefully, trying to get his own breath back and wincing at his stinging cheek, which he massaged as he nodded to Elliott.  “Holy _shit_ does he hit hard for someone of his size and weight,” he remarked, very impressed, “I didn’t want to do that but I couldn’t think of any other way to end this without hurting him badly.  Thanks for the assist.”

Elliott knelt by his partner’s side, unsure if he would be of any help, but still feel the need to be there anyway.  “You did exactly what you had to.  I did not think that he was capable of that.”  He thought about this for a moment and then sighed as well, noting that he would need to apologize to him for exactly that.  His musings were interrupted as Lysander returned to the waking world, sitting up and looking around in confusion, then gasped as he remembered what had just happened.  Once more he tried to run, scrambling away from both Elliott and Alex but hit the wall of the building.

“Shit, no, I didn’t,” he whispered, looking between them both, not wanting to believe what his memories held, “I did.  I…  I didn’t mean to-!  No, not again…”  He appeared ready to get to his feet and run once more, but saw that Alex was ready for him to do so.  Gently, Elliott touched his arm again, asking him to explain what had happened, and he felt his insides twist painfully at the look in those warm hazel eyes.  The fight was over, both internal and external.  “…I won’t run away.  No more hiding.  It’s over.”  His gaze swept over everyone, and it seemed as though a massive weight had settled upon his shoulders as he hugged himself and prepared to open up the locked door of memories that he’d kept sealed away from them so far.

“I came here because I ran away.  Because I destroyed everything worth living for,” he said in a shaking voice, then swallowed and blinked back tears, “and it seems that I’ve done it again.”  The group sat down around him, listening patiently as Lysander spilled out his past, surprisingly calm, though his voice sounded empty at the same time.

They already knew that he was fond of flirting and playful affection, and he explained that this had initially been a way to ward off aggressors and keep people at a distance.  Eventually, he made it a part of himself, as he did like making others smile and be happy, and though he was rarely taken seriously, he didn’t mind.  Despite this, he never really considered himself a person that someone could actually _love_ , and so while he pursued and enjoyed physical relationships, he never expected anything to pan out for the long-term.  He dated often and with a variety of partners, and eventually picked up a somewhat flattering reputation for being a lover that always satisfied.  Further, he was very careful in his dalliances, making sure that he always used proper protection, and routinely made sure to get medical checkups to ensure that he hadn’t picked up anything along the way, or left anything behind with someone else.

To Elliott’s surprise, this admission caused no jealousy or envy within him.  True, this was something that Lysander had mentioned early on in their friendship, long before they’d become companions, but hearing it again made him feel…pleased.  He had been drawn to the musician for a number of reasons, and the fact that he had attracted the notice and devotion of someone who treated intimacy with the same sort of normality that others would treat food or music, something to be enjoyed and shared, and nothing about which one should be embarrassed…  It filled him with a warm sense of pride and gratitude.

Lysander paused in his narrative to gather himself as he segued into the next part of the story, the flicker of a fond smile flickering at the corners of his lips.  The year before he had encountered a good friend with whom he’d not spoken in some time.  This friendship reignited immediately, and shortly, became something more.  Elliott smiled a little himself as Lysander’s became a bit more solid and softened his face, though he didn’t seem to realize it.  Continuing, he talked of how they had been happy together, and that this was the first relationship that he had really wanted to nurture and make permanent.  He had genuinely been happy with him, and from the way Lysander spoke and the implied subtext, Elliott was certain that he’d been willing and ready to settle down with that person permanently.

This didn’t happen.  After a few months his lover had become distant; less interested in spending time together and being intimate, but Lysander had shrugged it off.  There were a number of things taking up their time, and it was to be expected that they’d see each other less, and that the stress of these activities would create a bit of friction in the relationship.  At least, this is what one would normally think, and Lysander did so, and it was confirmed by his partner.  Even so, Lysander was concerned, despite the other man’s insistence that things were well, that he just needed a bit of time to himself to think and handle some matters himself, that was all.  But he would miss calls and messages from Lysander, sometimes for a couple of days, and eventually the musician decided to talk to him and bring it all out in the open.

There was another pause in the story as Lysander blinked away tears again, biting his lip, lost for a moment in the pain he remembered.  He had confronted his partner, but he knew he should have waited; he caught up to him in public and insisted on speaking then and there.  Initially, it was a minor discussion, then a simple argument, then a major altercation.  What could have been handled with more finesse and diplomacy in the privacy of either of their homes broke down quickly in the presence of viewers, and words were said by the both of them that could not be taken back.  While Lysander could not recall exactly what had been exchanged, the general idea was that his partner didn’t think he really was attracted to men, and that he didn’t think he could be with someone who had the reputation that Lysander did.  Whether or not these statements were true, they had hurt, and they had developed a bit of a crowd, as their conversation had escalated in volume.

Lysander fell silent, staring off at nothing, and everyone waited patiently for him to resume his telling.  Not wanting to interrupt but still wanting to provide _some_ sort of comfort, Elliott ghosted the lightest of touch across Lysander’s fingers, just enough to let him know that he was there and supporting him.  A hesitant smile tugged at one corner of the copper-haired man’s lips, and he pushed his fingers a bit further into that touch, almost scared to let go or take it further.  It did give him the impetus he needed to press on, and Elliott felt the twisting ache of sympathetic pain deepen as he listened.

The emotional stress between the two men had built up to a dangerous level, and like any container under too much pressure, they both broke and struck at each other; one with words, one with a fist.  They had both intended to hurt the other, in petty revenge for their own suffering.  Elliott felt overwhelming self-loathing as he recalled himself doing the same thing only a few minutes earlier.  He knew exactly how Lysander had felt at that moment and why he had done it, and so much of his thoughts, opinions, and actions made so much more sense now, and why and what he had held back from Elliott.  But back then, Lysander hadn’t had the time to apologize or run, as he had been hit back by one of their friends who had just arrived, in defense of the other man, and any chance of peaceful reconciliation had been completely dashed.

_By the light, no wonder he never wanted to speak of his past.  I am almost unable to listen to it, so to have that knowledge within his mind, always clawing at and reminding him of what he had done to his last lover…_

Taking a deep, shuddering breath as he bit his lip again and pinched the bridge of his nose, Lysander was even closer to tears than he had been.  He said that was hotheaded and impetuous, and had a fiery temper that he sometimes could not control, particularly when already hurt.  After all that had happened and been said he lost control, giving in to the pain and striking out against any who stood up to him.  Alone against four, he fought and nearly won, being the only one actually trained in some form of fighting, but he could hold them off only for so long.  Like Alex had, one of them had attempted to choke him out to stop the fight without hurting anyone further, but even with the disadvantage of being pinned down he had been able to throw off his attacker and get up.  This had been enough to get him to clear his head long enough to see what had happened.  To see what he had done to his friends, to his lover.  He saw the fear that his companion now held for him…

He ran.

As fast as he could, as hard as he could, he ran back to his apartment, almost unable to breathe as he burst in through the door.  Everything hurt, it all burned, he felt as though he was being consumed by his hate for himself.  He went to the kitchen and-

He finally broke down crying, hugging himself as he dug his nails into his arms, shoulders shaking with sobs he couldn’t hold back.  With unsteady hands he discarded the cobra-stitched bracelets, pushed up his sleeves, and removed the choker, the first time that anyone had seen him not wear it.  And then they saw why; scars, thin and white, on his wrists and neck.  Elliott’s stomach dropped out from under him and he felt a sickening wave of horror as he realized what had happened.

_Oh gods…  The scars you have hidden were not just mental and emotional.  This is why you never wanted to get close to someone, to let them see those, because you would have to answer questions that you could not answer.  This is what you meant when you said that you had nearly died a second time.  Light burn me, I once said that you’d had a ‘beautiful death.’  Burn me to the core, what you must have thought of me at that moment, and yet you didn’t say a thing.  My gods, my dearest…_

He didn’t know how it had happened, that memory was thankfully gone from his mind.  But he did remember a brief moment a little later; lying on the floor and seeing his blood pooling around him, the red-edged knife still in his hand.  Help had arrived, and medical assistance was being applied, but he didn’t want it.  Elliott’s own blood ran cold at Lysander’s words: “My only thought was, ‘why are you doing this?  Why won’t you just let me die?’”

That was his last clear memory for the rest of the day, though he recalled occasional moments of consciousness before being dragged back under again.  When he fully regained his senses he was in the hospital, and there he remained for a couple of weeks as he recovered.  …And also so that it would be certain that he wouldn’t try again…  Upon being released, he ensconced himself in his apartment for the next month, avoiding all contact from the outside world.  His isolation ended when he found a letter from his late grandfather containing the deed to the home in which he now lived.  He had walked away from his past and tried to start over.  Despite that, he had slipped back into old habits and history had repeated itself.

“Stupid,” he hissed, “I’m just such a damn _idiot_.”  Clenching a fist, he punched the ground next to himself as tears flowed without end.  “I don’t know why I tried to kill myself.  I don’t know why I thought I could come here and change.  I don’t know why I thought for a moment I deserved to be loved.  Completely useless, dumb, stupid, idiotic…”

Elliott was about to try to reassure him, to try to provide some kind of comfort, when Alex beat him to it, grabbing Lysander by the shoulders and yanking him to his feet.  “Don’t you _ever_ call yourself stupid again!”  It wasn’t what Elliott would have done, but it did have the desired effect of snapping Lysander out of his destructive spiral, and he stared at the athlete as he continued.  “You got hurt and had nobody to talk to or help you out.  You thought you were completely alone in that moment, didn’t you?  That in a flash of anger and pain the world was completely against you.  You always solve your problems, and for one moment you saw a way to make it stop hurting.”  His grip and expression softened.  “I don’t agree with it, but I understand why.”

Still without words, Lysander tried to find _something_ to say as his cousin finally released him, and Elliott stepped over, wrapping his arms around him from behind, needing the physical contact almost as much as his partner did.  He did relax a little and rest some of his weight against him, yes, but Elliott could still feel his pain, and he hated himself for knowing that he’d caused some of it, for forcing him to drag all of this out from where it had been buried.  One arm around Lysander’s waist, Elliott took a wrist with the other hand, brushing the scar with his thumb as if to be certain that it really was real.  His thoughts had ordered themselves, and quietly, he spoke, words barely loud enough for anyone else to hear.

“Do you know what I see?”  Lysander shook his head and almost clenched his fist again.  “I see someone who is _too_ strong.  Someone who has always had to lock part of themselves away because nobody else is willing to understand.  Someone who makes it a personal mission to protect everyone because he loves them and wants to ensure their safety and happiness.”  Elliott hugged him a little tighter, feeling his own pain begin to fade a little.  “And even when it all crumbled and you had to fight those you cared about you never once blamed them; you turned your rage inward because you felt weak.  Weak, because you were unable to resolve the situation any other way, and you took it out on the one person you could fight: yourself.  And even when you tried to destroy yourself, what you saw as the source of pain in others, you were still too strong, and survived.”

He felt Lysander stiffen again a little, but not to pull away, to keep himself from crying again, and Elliott smiled and softly kissed his neck.  “You could have tried to end it again, or tried to re-open wounds and make contact with them, but you didn’t.  You left to find yourself, to start over, to find answers.  You could have stayed in that apartment, alone, but you had the strength to decide to make a change.  I’m glad that you moved here, because I got to meet you, and I am greater for it.”

With a voice that nearly cracked, Lysander finally spoke again.  “…I tried to hurt you.”

“I provoked you,” Elliott replied, and when Lysander shot back that he had almost hit him, he caressed his cheek.  “But you didn’t.  Even in that moment of fury you had enough self-control to deflect aside.”

Eyeing Lysander with new respect as well as sympathy, Sebastian drew fingers across his throat in the same line that he saw on him.  “Damn, you really don’t do anything in half-measures, do you?”  He asked for the keys to the community center, and Lysander seemed confused by this.  “I’ll lock up.  Go home, you’re a mental mess right now, and we sorta helped cause it.  Take tonight to sort yourself out and we’ll meet up again tomorrow.”  This was said without any heat or malice, as they all knew that it had been traumatic for him to have to re-experience that event, and that he wouldn’t be able to recollect himself properly around everyone, even if they were friends.

Elliott retrieved the keys from his pocket as Lysander agreed, handing them to his partner, who inspected them to make sure they were all there before handing them to Sebastian.  The choker and bracelets were returned by Abigail, and he almost dropped them as he put them back on when Sam impacted him with one of his usual high-energy hugs.  He wasn’t the only one to try to offer some sort of support, as Haley gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and Alex’s sunny grin returned as he ruffled his hair, promising to run with him again in the morning.

“Sorry I had to drop you like that, but you were seriously close to kicking my ass.”

“It’s okay, you did what you had to.”  He made an inquisitive noise as Elliott was unable to stifle a laugh, remarking that he’d said the same.

“Do you think you will be alright, dear?” Elliott asked, loath to leave him alone despite Sebastian’s recommendation.

Picking up and slinging Resonance’s strap over his head, he thought as he flexed the bandaged hand.  “I…  Maybe, I think so,” he finally said, “if you could walk home with me, I don’t want to be alone just yet.  I’m also not sure I can make it back by myself right now, feeling pretty beat.”

“Anything you ask.  Lead the way.”

Elliott retrieved his satchel before they walked off together, and he felt a wave of warmth as Lysander took his hand and held it firmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	40. Release and Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I love Elliott being sweet, caring, and understanding. I also love embarrassing him. XD//

Their walk was mostly silent, though it was more that they were wandering in their own minds than some outward level of hostility.  Elliott kept replaying the words that Lysander had said when Alex had stopped him: _“Just let me die.”_   If they had let him go, to run away to what unknown destination that he’d had in mind, what would he have done?  Elliott tried not to dwell, but it still gnawed at him, and he wondered if he could find a way to remain there with him the rest of the night.  Not for any sort of untoward reasons, no.  He was concerned for Lysander’s health, as though things seemed to have been resolved, Elliott knew the sort of darkness that could plague one’s mind after this sort of event, and he didn’t want to risk any chances.

Lysander finally broke the silence, his voice almost empty.  “I’m sorry I hid so much from you.  It was insulting and condescending of me to think that you couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.  That was extremely wrong of me.”

Squeezing his partner’s hand, Elliott shook his head.  “I am no longer angry about that. Rather, now that I know what it was you hid I know why you chose to lock it all away.  It seems that it hurt you worse to tell the story than it was for me to hear it.  I am sorry for pressuring you so rudely.”

 It was Lysander’s turn to shake his head.  It was over now, and though there was a lingering ache that left a hole inside of him, it also felt as though a weight had been lifted.  The conversation ended again, and they once more walked in silence.

He opened the door and wandered in, almost lost, setting down Resonance and staring off blankly.  Concerned, Elliott set his satchel by the door and closed it, putting a wary hand on the other man’s shoulder.  “If you are doing better, I’ll go.  I don’t want to intrude.”  He knew that Lysander would probably want to deal with this on his own, and he could see why, but at the same time, he didn’t want him to be alone, but wasn’t sure how to ask without it coming out wrong.

“No, I…”  Elliott stepped back as Lysander turned around, and felt a small rush of relief when his partner leaned into him with a weak hug.  Then he asked what Elliott wanted to hear: “Stay, here.  Tonight.  I need you.”  Unsure if he was possibly misreading the situation, and not wanting to take advantage of him in such a damaged, unstable mental state, Elliott asked if he was certain about it, and was interrupted with a kiss that was much different than any he’d had before; there was need to it, desire.  “Stay, please,” he whispered, “I want _you_.”

Elliott had waited for this, for so long, but for a moment he wondered if he should pursue it.  The look that Lysander gave him, though…  Unable to hide a smile that reflected his own desire, he unsnapped the choker, dropping it carelessly as he pulled him closer.  “I was wondering when you would ask…”

 

Quite some time later, Elliott felt his heart rate begin to come down, threading his fingers through that lovely copper hair, lying back with Lysander draped across him, his head on his shoulder.  His hair had gotten a bit disheveled from the _very_ vigorous activity in which they’d been recently engaged, so Elliott untied the ribbon that held (most of) it back and tossed it onto the dresser with a flick of his wrist, allowing it to spill across his partner’s shoulders.

“Still finding a way to undress me?” he giggled, shifting a little to meet Elliott’s eyes.

“There is still a little left, but I find the sight of you wearing naught but your jewelry to be quite arousing, so I shall leave it.”

“Bits of plastic and waxed cord are ‘jewelry’ to you?” Lysander teased, giggling again as Elliott hugged him and kissed the top of his head.

“I am uncertain as to the correct term for them.  Perhaps I should have specified ‘accessories,’ but even then, that seems incorrect.”

Feeling quite languid, Elliott took in the scent and feel of him, letting his hands idly play across his partner’s body, and from the subtle twtiching and shuddering, he seemed to be enjoying it as well.  Then he remembered an earlier thought and traced his fingers down the side of Lysander’s face.

“I am concerned, my dear.”  At a curious noise, Elliott sighed and tried to phrase the question correcly.  “Your words at the community center, just after you had fled, the echo of the ones you spoke while your life drained away from you.”  Lysander stiffened in his arms, and Elliott knew that he had been right to stay, in _any_ form.  “Tell me, my dear, had we not prevented you from leaving, what would you have done?”  Still tense, and now quiet, Lysander could no longer meet his gaze, his fingers digging into Elliott’s shoulder.  “…Dear?”

“I…”  Tightly closing his eyes, Lysander tried to hold back tears.  “It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is.  Dear, please, tell me.  If we had not stopped you, would you have tried again?”

Sitting up, Lysander clenched his fists on his legs and bit his lip.  “I…  I might’ve…”  His shoulders shook again as he fought the urge to cry.  “Yes,” he finally replied, “maybe, I don’t know.  I-  I wanted to, but-  I’m sorry!  I’m so damn weak, I-“

“Dearest.”  The word was soft and quiet, but it was all that was needed.  Shifting to sit up as well, Elliott brushed the hair out of Lysander’s face.  “Thank you for being honest with me.  And you are not weak.  I completely understand.  I very nearly did something similar myself once.”

Eyes now wide with surprise, Lysander clasped Elliott’s hand.  “You…  When did-“

“It was the night before we met.  I was at the lowest point in my life that I had ever been.  A year in this town and I had nothing to show for it.  I had failed, and all that I wanted at that moment was to drown my sorrows for a little while.  Sadly, unlike my spirits, they were bouyant.”  There was a flicker of a smile from his partner, and Elliott pulled him close, foreheads touching, wanting that physical contact almost as much as Lysander did.  “There was a verbal altercation.  It very nearly became a physical one.  I was not at fault, but it was due to my presence and statements, and it left me feeling even more unwanted and unwelcome.  I left, walking without purpose or direction, until there was no further that I could walk.”

Twining a lock of Lysander’s hair around his finger, he sighed at himself, remembering the emotions that he’d felt, or the concerning lack thereof.  “I stood at the end of the pier, staring off into nothingness.  All I felt was pain and emptiness.  I was a failure, and I had brought shame and disappointment to my family and all of those who had supported me.  I was useless, a dead weight.  For a moment, just a brief flash, I considered diving in.”  Lysander sat up suddenly, about to say something, but Elliott pressed a finger to his lips.  “But only for a moment.  Even so, had I actually gone through with it, I’d only have added ‘completely soaked’ and ‘extremely cold’ to the list before dragging myself back to shore.  It was only a minor fit of despair, and it faded as soon as I had thought of it.  But that is why I understand what you did and why you did it.  I do not necessarily _agree_ with your decision, but I can empathize with your pain.”

His face fell a little and he hugged him even tighter, remembering the exchange at the community center.  “And I am so very, terribly sorry about what I said to you.  I said things specifically calculated to hurt, to cause pain to you. I took pleasure in your suffering and that is inexcusable.  If you do not forgive me I understand why.  Regardless of my frustrations there was never a reason for me to take it out on you.”

“I can’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive,” Lysander smiled, kissing his cheek, “you were right, all of it, and I deserved it.  If I’d told you about it sooner you’d never have wanted to say that in the first place.”  He looked at his wrist, at that white scar, and the old pain of memory came back for a moment.  “This is why I never wanted to pursue a relationship with anyone, and even when I did take the chance with you, why I never brought up intimacy.  I was terrified that you’d see these scars and ask what happened, and hate me for what I’d done.  For what I was.  I’m glad to be wrong, but…”

With a gentle smile, Elliott took his hand, kissing the mark, then did the same on the other hand, then kissed a pattern up the line on his neck, enjoying the gasp of pleasure it gave his partner.  “All of that is in the past.  Let us look toward and work for a better future.  _Together_.”

Knotting his fingers in Elliott’s hair, Lysander kissed him again, but it wasn’t one of the ones that they’d shared so often before.  Like the one in the other room a bit earlier, this was more personal and demanding, and carried the air of complete possession.  With determined fingers drawing up and down his partner’s back, Elliott allowed himself to be consumed by it, enjoying the sensation of holding him close with nothing else in the way, that warm, skin-to-skin contact.

Finally letting Elliott go so they both could breathe, Lysander nibbled on his ear and flashed that cheeky smile.  “As much as I want you again, and all night, I haven’t really eaten today.  How about a quick snack before I get back to pleasing you?”

“I am peckish as well,” Elliott purred, nipping at his lip, “and perhaps I shall be the one to return to pleasing you.”

Before they could banter any further, Elliott’s phone rang, and Lysander leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve Elliott’s trousers and fish the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen.  “Charles?” he asked as he handed it over and stood up.

“My brother.”

“Oh!  You take the call, then, join me when you’re done.”  He brushed Elliott’s lips with one last kiss, picked up his own pants, and left the room.  Sighing with satisfaction, Elliott answered the device.

“Charles, hello.  How are you?”

“Quite well, I just thought that I should call and wish my little brother a happy birthday.”

Elliott shifted his position as he checked his mental calendar.  “I had completely forgotten about that.  How easily I lose track of time out here!”

Laughing, Charles prodded him, as older brothers are given to do.  “Is that so?  Perhaps you’ve just been so busy that it slipped your mind.”

“That is true, things have been rather…complex down here,” Elliott replied, shifting again to get comfortable, then realized that he was wearing nothing under the sheet and turned a bit red.  But wait, it wasn’t as though it were a video call, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.  …Right?

“Even so, do you have any plans for tonight?  Maybe make some now that I’ve reminded you?”

“Ah…  Not so much.  Perhaps we shall just stay in."

“Oh-ho, ‘we’ is it?  So you two do have something in mind!”

Trying not to make evident his mounting panic, Elliott tried to redirect the topic.  “Well, not really.  We do spend a lot of time together now and it is simply something that we do.”

“So dinner and a bit of entertainment?”

“Of a sort…yes.  Um…”  He was never good at ad-libbing, nor being untruthful, and Charles caught on to the hesitant edge of his brother’s voice.

“Are you _quite_ alright over there?  Did I interrupt something?”

“…No, we are…  That is…  We need a break to…”

There was silence on the other end before Charles laughed heartily.  “Haha!  Well then!  Perhaps I should let you go so that you can get back to what you were doing.  Or is it ‘who?’”

“That’s-!  I really don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you!”

More laughter, then an amused sigh.  “Ah, sorry about that, little brother, but to be fair, it is about damn time that your physical needs are being met.  You’ve gone far too long without, you know.”

“What-  This sort of advice is completely unnecessary!”

“Fine, fine.  I’ll leave it at that,” snickered the very-unhelpful sibling, “but really, that is good to hear.  It sounded like you both are compatible as far as interests and everything, and being physically compatible is a part of a strong relationship, you know.”

Sighing again, Elliott managed a rueful smile, even though Charles couldn’t see it.  “All of that is true, but it is also something that I did not want to rush.”

“Fair enough!  Oh, I hear an incoming call.”

Elliott glanced at the screen of his phone.  “It’s on my end, mother is calling.”

“Probably to wish you the same.  I’ll let you go, then.  Again, happy birthday, Elliott, say ‘hello’ to your boyfriend for me.”

“I shall, and thank you.”  He hung up and answered the next call.  “Hello, mother, I’ve not called in a while, it seems.”

“You have not, and so I took it upon myself,” she replied, sounding amused, “and besides, it is customary to call the person in question when one desires to wish them well.  Happy birthday, dear, how are things?”

Chuckling, Elliott ran his fingers through his hair.  “First Charles and then you.  I am quite popular today.  I am doing well, though I had forgotten the date until he reminded me."

“Oh, he has called as well?”

“Yes, we just finished speaking.”

“I hope that I didn’t interrupt anything,” she replied, and Elliott felt his face flush again at words that were very similar to the accidentally-accurate ones from his brother.

“Ah, no, we were done, actually.  That is, Charles and I were done, not Lysander and I-  I mean, nothing was interrupted in any form, we…”  Groaning, Elliott put his face in his hand, mentally slapping himself.  There was a moment of perplexed silence similar to the one that Charles had experienced.

“Is there something going on?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

“No, not at the moment…”  He trailed off, still unsure of how to word the statement of _“my lover and I are taking a quick break to recuperate before returning to engaging in physical intimacy,”_ in a discrete and casual manner.  There was no need for this, as she laughed much in the same way that Charles had, and Elliott buried his face in the sheet.  Oh _gods_ , now his mother knew!

“I may not be interrupting but I am possibly keeping you from something.  And therefore someone as well.”  He could hear the teasing smile in her voice, and he squeaked in embarrassment.  “Oh, Elliott, you really are too old to be this innocent,” she chuckled, “I do hope that Lysander understands just what it is that he has.”

This slight shift brought him around, and he found his smile again.  “That he does.  But to be honest, it is I who did not realize at first just what a treasure I had found.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” she said, and Elliott heard the approval in her voice.

“Once we have reliable transportation out of town we will make that a priority.”

“That is acceptable.  For now, however, I shall let you get back to him.  Give him our regards, dear.”

“I shall.  And pass on my love to father.”

“Once more, happy birthday, it’s good to hear that things are going well.”

Hanging up, he exhaled deeply and flopped back against the pillows.  Great, just as he’d obtained a sex life his family knew about it.  Who would be next?  He got up and put on his trousers, setting the phone on the nightstand, and joined Lysander in the kitchen, who was nearly done preparing something quick.

“Hey love, how went things?”

“First my brother, then mother calling to catch up,” Elliott replied, not wanting to divulge more, as he felt a little awkward about mentioning the subject at hand.

“You look a bit flustered,” remarked the copper-haired man, taking a quick bite of what he’d made, “never talked to your mom without pants on?”  At the shocked, embarrassed look that Elliott gave him, Lysander giggled around his food and swallowed.  “Just remember, it’s only weird the first couple of times, and that’s ‘cause you make it weird.  It’s not like there’s a camera on you, so just don’t worry.”

“You say that as though it is a common occurrence.”

“It doesn’t happen _all_ the time, but you do know my past, and therefore how likely it was that I’d get a call while in the all-together, so to speak.”  Considering this, Elliott blushed a little again, then accepted a bite of what Lysander offered him.  “So, how about we finish this quickly so we can get back to bed?”

“I like the sound of that.  However, just _once_ more before we eat,” Elliott smiled, sliding a hand down the back of Lysander’s pants and biting his ear, “I am no longer uncomfortable, and am suddenly reminded of just how alluring you are.”

Grinning, Lysander pulled him over to the couch.  “Is there anything else you’d like to take off of me this time?”

“Not a thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	41. A Change of Clothes and Situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //...So... I was listening to the soundtrack for Revolutionary Girl Utena (seriously, it is a FANTASTIC soundtrack) while writing most of this, and when I took a break I let my mind wander. As one does.  
> ...  
> I now feel the need to see Lysander in Utena's "battle" outfit and Elliott in the Rose Bride dress. Things like this are why it's a good thing that I can only write and not draw...  
> *Lays down on the floor, stares off at nothing.*//

Elliott awoke rather confused. The bed was comfortable, yes, but it wasn’t his bed, and something about the room wasn’t right.

_Xander? How did you get in-_

He blinked and looked around the around the room in the early-morning light, now remembering the previous night’s “activities.” Scratching Xander between the ears, he smiled and reclined again, enjoying a soft sense of contentment. His actions the night before surprised even him; so demanding, so enthusiastic, so passionate. How unlike his usual self! But Lysander had enjoyed every moment of it, and remarked at one point that he liked this side of him. He replayed a few scenes and happily felt no embarrassment about it. It was nobody’s business but theirs, and even if others found out, well… He just hoped that nobody else would. Having his family know was cringe-worthy enough!

_That was an amazing night. And Lysander… I feel so comfortable here, so welcome. This place already feels like a home. I could see myself staying here…_

The spot next to him was still warm, and he relaxed from it and the scent of his partner on the pillowcase, already finding both to be familiar and welcome. Dozing off again, he slept a little longer, but not deeply, as the sound of Lysander removing his running jacket was enough to rouse him again. Elliott scratched Xander again, raising himself up on one elbow, sharing that mellow, contented smile with his partner. He greeted him, inquiring about his mental and physical health, and Lysander replied in the very positive.

“I don’t ever want to go through a dry spell like that again,” he remarked as he sat down to remove his shoes, which made Xander give him a look of disdain before the ginger tabby hopped off of the bed and padded out of the room. Voicing the opinion that he’d not felt this good in a number of years, he leaned over to give Elliott a quick peck, adding as he removed his shirt that a good portion of it was the person next to whom he had woken.  With a chuckle, as he took the opportunity to run his fingers from Lysander’s now-bare shoulder to his hip, Elliott replied that he thought the same, and without missing a beat Lysander suggested that Elliott could live there.

This honest and immediate reply left Elliott thoughtful. “It is something that had crossed my mind…” he said, still taking the opportunity to caress his partner.

Lysander leaned over again and twined a lock of blonde hair around his finger, grinning with mischief. “Well, the thing that has crossed my mind is that I’m fire and you’re water, so why don’t we go catch a shower so that things can get properly steamy?”

His terrible and unexpected flirt was far more amusing to Elliott than it probably should have been, and he said so, facepalming as he allowed himself to drop back against the pillows. Lysander giggled himself as he stood up to remove his pants, then took Elliott’s hand to help him up, gasping as the other man wrapped him in a warm hug, nibbled his ear, and began using one hand quite skillfully. Nearly stumbling a couple of times from this attention, Lysander got them both to the shower, where Elliott took the time to demonstrate _other_ skills.

As such it was quite a while later when they both stepped out, and Elliott examined himself in the mirror. Lysander offered him the use of his razor and any other toiletries he’d need, seeing as he’d not packed an overnight bag. As he toweled his hair dry he remarked that he was going to start the coffee, and that Elliott didn’t need to hurry. Elliott replied that he didn’t expect it to take long, then remembered the bandage on Lysander’s hand, and asked about it, as while it hadn’t gotten in the way the previous night or become dislodged, he wasn’t certain how it had held up being wet.

“It’s still good, looks like Harvey knows his stuff,” Lysander said, flexing his hand for emphasis, “I don’t think it will come off until it needs to.” Elliott nodded as Lysander put on a clean pair of pants and left for the kitchen. He removed his earrings so he could brush his hair (he had been a bit too tired to do it before they’d gone to sleep, then a bit too busy before their shower), borrowed Lysander’s hairbrush to quickly work out the tangles, then put the silver hoops back on. Rubbing his fingers over his chin, Elliott inspected himself again before reaching for the shaving cream and razor, then glanced out of the room in the direction that his companion had gone once he noticed something. He hadn’t seen any stubble on Lysander, and the razor was still dry, so he hadn’t shaved earlier. Apparently he was one of those sorts who could go a day or two without needing it.

Filing this away in the “interesting but not terribly useful” portion of his memory, he concentrated on not cutting himself on the unfamiliar blade, and in a few minutes was clean-shaven. Wiping his face on the just-used towel, he hung it up, then realized that unlike Lysander, he had no fresh garments into which he could change. Well, the ones from the day before were still relatively clean, and he could at least wear them until he could get home to change out. He put on and buttoned his pants, then picked up his shirt, shrugging into it and rolling up the sleeves.

Hair loose across his shoulders in a copper-red cascade, Lysander hummed to himself as he poured the drinks, and Elliott couldn’t resist a smile and a swell of pride.

_Such a magnificent form. A body that almost seems as though it were designed for the pleasure of others, and a brilliant mind within it. He is mine, and I feel privileged to be able to touch him and no longer hold back._

Lysander didn’t notice his arrival, and produced a satisfying gasp and jump of surprise as Elliott nuzzled his neck and flicked a gentle finger across his shoulder. Grinning, he gave Elliott his coffee and expressed amusement that it had taken him only one night to learn all of the best ways to touch him. Elliott rebuffed this, that he had so much more to learn, but was keen to do so. Lysander leaned against the kitchen counter, thinking about something.

“So… You’re okay with us being…” he said, letting the silence speak for itself.

Elliott sighed and smiled, reassuring him that if he hadn’t then he would not have escorted him home the day before. “As I said, I was wondering when you would get around to suggesting it.” Laughing, Lysander said that he had been waiting for Elliott to bring up the idea of going farther, as he didn’t know how comfortable he’d be with taking their relationship to that level. This lined up with what he’d said last night, and Elliott knew that he likely would never have asked to pursue being physically intimate on his own. He had always been too passive and rarely initiated anything without prompting, and Lysander had probably picked up on that.

Sipping his coffee, Lysander chuckled and smiled at him again. “Absolute truth, when we first met? That line about earrings and such? I was covering for the fact that I was thinking about how you were crazy hot and I wanted some of that.” Elliott laughed as well, shaking his head, seconding the first impression and initial thoughts, in addition to pursuing options similar to what they’d done earlier. Face falling a little, Lysander stared into his cup. “It’s interesting, and sorta frustrating, that only now we’re finally on the same page. Sorry it took me so long to finally open up about my past. I should have trusted you more, but-“

He paused as Elliott took his cup and set them both on the counter, then pulled him in for a very satisfying and prolonged kiss. “Do not apologize any further,” Elliott said once he had given Lysander the chance to breathe, “I fully understand your suffering and fear of losing everything. Regardless of how long it took for us to get here, it is not the destination I seek, it is the journey, and I want to walk it by your side from now on.”

Only slightly amused by Elliott’s perpetual habit of being correct about everything, Lysander handed back the coffee and took his, drinking the last of it in two gulps. He had to get to the garden before anything else could get done, and he gratefully accepted Elliott’s offer of help. There likely wasn’t much he could do to assist, but the company would be more than welcome. After slipping into the bedroom for his work shirt, he happily took Elliott’s hand and gave him a quick tour as he went about his business.

Gesturing to a still-empty part of the garden, he rubbed his arms, still warming back up from the coolness of the morning. “Now that it’s fall I was going to put in sunflowers over there. I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while now and it’s satisfying to finally get around to it. One of these days I’ll also do roses, once I have an area set aside that I think they’ll look nice.” Elliott immediately thought of the roses that his mother cultivated, and considered bringing up to Lysander the possibility of using some of those cuttings. This thought was momentarily shelved as his partner mentioned purchasing a motorcycle, as Sebastian’s training had given him confidence enough to think about riding on his own. “It would be nice to have the freedom to get out and about a bit more. And I’m confident enough to have a passenger, too."

His obvious grin and wink further emphasized his intent, and Elliott very much liked the idea, as he couldn’t remember the last time he’d left town, other than the trip to Lysander’s storage unit. “I support your decision, if anything else for the selfish desire to escape this place for a little while.”

That warm smile was now soft and happy, and gave Elliott a sympathetic tingle. “I think it’s a journey I’ll enjoy having with you.”

 

Once finished with the harvest (Lysander had a rather interesting and self-sufficient setup that required very little effort on his part now), they put their haul where it would be picked up later and taken to the various locations in which his produce was being sold. They could get properly dressed, and Elliott rolled down and buttoned his sleeves, tucking in his shirt as they entered the bedroom again. It was now that Lysander had realized the same thing that Elliott had, but the author shrugged and put on his waistcoat. There was plenty of time before practice, they would just go to his place next. Lysander changed and dressed with practiced efficiency, putting on his guitar-pick accessories and pushing his sleeves up a bit. This, plus the lack of the choker, brought a smile to Elliott; he was no longer scared of his scars, and now wore them openly.

Commenting that he just needed to do his hair and get Resonance, Lysander went to the bathroom to get his hairbrush, which Elliott plucked from his hand, offering to do it. The copper-haired man thanked him, enjoying the sensation of someone else doing it for once, and wondered if they should just start keeping clothes at both places, just in case, as they were somewhat distant from each other.

“Thanks again,” he remarked as Elliott set aside the brush and tied back his hair with that familiar ribbon, “right, sunglasses, and then- Oh, you know…” He picked up the silver half-rim spectacles that Elliott hadn’t seen him wear in a very long time. “Want to try these?” he asked, “they’re not prescription, they just have some anti-glare and anti-UV coatings, good for things like computer monitors or when you don’t want to wear sunglasses for some reason.” With Elliott’s lighter-colored eyes and proximity to the ocean, these were valid concerns, and he took the glasses after he finished with the buttons on his wrists.

_He continues to look out for me and my health, in the smallest of ways, and that means so much._

The spectacles fit comfortably, and he did notice that they’d be useful when working at the laptop again or simply when out and about. Picking up his satchel, he saw Lysander smile with satisfaction, biting his lip and looking him up and down.

“You appear to approve,” Elliott observed, and Lysander replied without shame that they looked very good on him, and that he did have a glasses fetish, so this was extremely attractive to him, in addition to matching his earrings. Quickly glancing in the mirror over the dresser, Elliott agreed on all counts, and they left to go to his cabin so he could also get changed.

Elliott began unbuttoning his garments as soon as he walked in the door, feeling very comfortable about that sort of thing now, and Lysander trailed behind, having put Resonance by the door. In a rather catlike manner, Lysander dropped onto and stretched across the bed, already looking completely at home.

“I think I could see myself waking up here now and then as well.” Elliott shook his head and huffed a chuckle, removing his shirt and waistcoat to set them aside, and pulled out a fresh shirt. As he did so, Lysander rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling as he thought aloud. “You know, Sebastian was right. I said that I couldn’t let go, but really, I wouldn’t. I was so scared and hurt that it all wrapped up together in a giant tangle that I was even more scared of to try and un-tangle. For as much pain as I was in, it was more terrifying to imagine things being even worse.” Elliott turned as he buttoned the fresh garment, seeing Lysander’s expression become a little sad, which lasted only a moment as he followed the thread of his thoughts. “But it was all just my imagination. It wasn’t my memories that were the source of pain, it was myself. And now...I’m free. I’m myself again, I’m more than I used to be, and I’m happy with that.”

Elliott had always been poetic and prone to flowery, lyrical moments, but something about Lysander truly brought it out in him, and this was one of those times. He sat next to his partner, leaning over him to meet his gaze, lacing together the fingers of one hand. “Though your fire is no longer wild and uncontrolled like it was before, it now burns brighter and more warmly. You were my light in the darkness, but now you are my light of day."

To Elliott’s satisfaction, he caught a quick flush in his partner’s cheeks and a look of delight in his eyes; he hadn’t been expecting that, and almost didn’t know how to react to it. For once he was the one to be spontaneous! The hesitation was gone in an instant, and Lysander laughed brightly, grabbing him by the collar with his free hand.

“You know that you can’t say romantic fluff like that without me doing something about it.”

Gods, this man knew how to kiss. Elliott was getting into it when he felt Lysander’s fingers nimbly undoing the buttons on his shirt, and he sat up, telling him to hold off for a while. “Ah, you naughty thing!” he laughed as Lysander began undoing the buttons from the bottom this time, “later, I said.” He playfully swatted away his partner’s hands, prompting a cheeky grin and the query as to whether it was a promise. As he tucked in his shirt the musician shifted to lay on his stomach, elbows on the bed and chin in his hands, watching him with lecherous glee. Chuckling and donning his waistcoat, he fixed his partner with a wry smile. “Your libido appears to have very few boundaries.”

Shrugging, Lysander continued to visually undress the other man with that ever-present smile. “It usually does, but it’s been a while since I was getting any regularly, and you’re hot. Deal with it.”

“I will deal with it later tonight, then,” Elliott replied, checking himself in the mirror one last time, “let’s go before we’re late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	42. Life, the Universe, and Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If you see any changes to the last two or three chapters in the following days, I'm not retconning anything. Formatting and stuff sometimes gets funny when copying from my tablet's copy of Word, and I have no sodding idea why. *Shrugs, sighs.* Anyway, have an update. I'm gonna start taking bets to see just _how_ much longer this will run than the last two books, and if I stretch this nonsense out to something like seventy chapters I invite you all to stage an intervention. And YES, that is a very obvious Hitchhiker's Guide reference there. It seemed to fit...//

They left the cabin together, but while Elliott was about to head toward the bridge, Lysander was taken with a playful mood, and grabbed his hand to pull his partner round and about.  Elliott nearly stumbled but Lysander didn’t let him fall, instead whirling them into a quick dance of no particular sort.  Amused by his partner’s sudden enthusiasm, Elliott remarked on it, and Lysander grinned and hugged him, dancing away himself to stare at the ocean.  After everything that he’d been through (most of it self-inflicted!) he felt so much more alive than he had in so very long.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, then set Resonance onto the sand, took a breath to steel himself, and walked out onto the pier.  Upon reaching the end, he again gazed out at the endless blue expanse, and though there initially was tension in his shoulders, he finally relaxed and found his mental and physical center.  Same as he had back at the park a few days earlier, he went through the sword forms, and Elliott smiled to himself, watching his partner shift and flow with the movement of the water below.

_Facing your fear as only you know how.  I am proud of you, my dear._

He gasped with his own fear, however, when Lysander laughed brightly and rose up out of one form to grab onto a pylon and hoist himself atop it.  “Dear!” he shouted, running over, “are you sure you-“

“I’m not afraid anymore.”  Elliott stopped in his tracks at the quiet statement, watching Lysander balance with ease on one foot, the other behind it and arms wide for stability.  “I can feel the water now, I know how it moves.  I can dance with it.”  Relieved, Elliott stood next to him, seeing the determination on Lysander’s face.  “And because of that, I think I understand you better, too.”  Elliott stepped back to allow him to hop down, then gasped again as his partner wrapped his arms around him and actually lifted him off of his feet for just a moment.  “I’m not scared of myself or my scars, of the past or future.  I’m here with you and I can’t ask for anything else.”

He gave Elliott a quick peck on the cheek as he swept past him to pick up Resonance and chivvy him to catch up; they would be late if they didn’t hurry!  They didn’t need to, though, as though Sebastian, Abigail, and Sam were already present and the community center open, the three had arrived earlier than usual anyway.  Sam gleefully greeted them both, looking much better at their arrival, and immediately remarked upon Lysander’s lack of his normally-present choker.  Gesturing with the sleeves that had been pushed up his forearms, he replied that he no longer needed it.

“I’m not embarrassed or afraid of them anymore.  They’re a part of who I am.”  His face fell a little and he looked extremely apologetic.  “Also, I didn’t say it yesterday, but sorry for snapping at you like that.  You were trying to cheer me up and my reaction was completely uncalled for.  Thanks for being a friend.”  Once again, Elliott stepped aside, correctly predicting that Sam would throw himself at the other musician for a full-body hug.  Laughing, Lysander returned the hug, squeezing him hard enough to leave him winded.  The guitarist grinned as he adjusted himself, asking if they were prepared for practice.

“You have no idea,” Lysander grinned as he mussed up his friend’s hair, “let’s make some noise.”

Smirking, Sam shot him an amused look as Lysander moved past him to swap Resonance for the bass.

“What, you two didn’t make enough last night?”

Turning nearly as red as his partner’s hair, Elliott shot Sam a look of shock while Lysander nearly tripped over a microphone stand.

_HOW DID HE-?!_

Perplexed, Sam wondered what their problem was, and as he put both reactions together and got an interesting answer, his face was bisected by a grin that almost lit up the room.  He elbowed Elliott in good humor, expressing his approval.   “I don’t care where that hand has been,” he laughed, holding up a hand, “high five!”  Holding up his own, Elliott was only vaguely aware of Sam slapping his hand against it and looking between them as he giggled.  For once, Sebastian found something to be funny, and Abigail was bent over double, seated at the drum set, almost needing the snare to her side to keep her from sliding off of the stool.

_First my family and now my friends!  Will I ever have a secret that doesn’t immediately become public in less than a day?!_

There was gleeful and snarky banter for a minute that left Elliott even more embarrassed, particularly when Alex and Haley arrived and it had to be “clarified” for them.  Eventually, Lysander apologized to him, realizing that they’d probably crossed a line with which Elliott wasn’t comfortable, and Sam seconded it.  Remarking that he wasn’t as comfortable as everyone else was in discussing details of this sort even with friends, Elliott was grateful for both Lysander’s hug and the thoughtfulness of his friends.

Adjusting his clothes, Sam grinned at him, but supportively.  “Sorry, dude, didn’t mean to embarrass you.  I’m happy for you two, seriously.”  As they pulled out their gear and got set up, they chatted and teased each other, feeling the tension from the day before dissipate.

Haley inspected her camera gear as she pulled it out of her bags and addressed Elliott.  “Well, like Sam said, I’m happy for you two.  It looks like you’ve finally found what you’re looking for,” she remarked, picking up the camera and looking through the viewfinder at him, “you’ve finished your novel and found someone nice to hook up with.”  She lowered it as she tried to remember something.  “Oh, you said before, but I forgot, any news on when it’ll be published?”

Grateful that the conversation was now on professional matters and not personal ones, Elliott sat down on the piano bench, feeling that sense of success again.  It would be published later that month, and if his information was correct, the first print would take place very soon.  Alex perked up, complimenting his success, but Elliott was quick to attribute some success to his partner.

“Well, if it wasn’t for Lysander’s input I likely never would have gotten this far, so I cannot claim success on my own, and thusly have listed him as a co-writer.”  Perking up, Alex was happy to see Lysander get credit, and asked how they’d be listed, if Elliott would be first or what.  He confirmed it, but clarified that rather than use his own name or a pseudonym they went ahead and consolidated under Lysander’s.  Once he was established as an author he could use his own name.

“Hunh, that works, I guess,” Alex mused, scratching his head, “but couldn’t that be confusing later?  Or are you keeping Lys’s name when you get married?”

_Married?  What-  …Oh gods…_

Somehow this implication had never occurred to him at any point in the discussion, and from Lysander’s expression, he hadn’t either.  They talked over each other as they tried to clarify the issue with their friends while simultaneously reassuring each other that this was _not_ what they had intended when they had agreed upon this matter.

“Regardless, Alex is right,” Lysander stated, looking very flustered, “we still have time to change it before it goes to print, to put your name on it properly so that-“

“No,” interrupted Elliott, “now that it has been mentioned…”

_I had compartmentalized it, myself and him, two separate people; Elliott, and Lysander von Morgensonne.  But looking at it now, this is a partnership.  And now that I have considered it…_

He chuckled softly as he played it over in his mind a couple of times.  “You know, ‘Elliott von Morgensonne’ doesn’t sound too bad.”

The sudden wide-eyed blush that Lysander now wore told Elliott everything that he wanted to know, and after considering it himself, agreed.  “I hadn’t thought about it before.”

 

Elliott had the least to put away out of the entire group, save for Haley, so he brought his satchel and sheet music over to the table to pack in order to stay out of everyone else’s way.  Likewise, Haley had very little, and what she did was just scattered across the table.  As he opened his bag and fastidiously filed away his paperwork, she smiled at him.

“We’re all happy for you, sweetie.”

He looked up, not expecting any further commentary on the new status of his and Lysander’s relationship.  “Oh, well, thank you.  I don’t know what prompted this, but you have my gratitude all the same.”

Sighing with friendly patience, she put down her camera, and rested one hand on the tabletop and the other on her hip.  “We all remember when you first got here, and how hard you were trying for such a long time.  You seemed to have a few high points where you seemed to have found what you were looking for, but then the world kept dropping out from under you.  I mean,” she sighed again and shook her head, “I remember that time you nearly had the dust-up with Shane at the saloon the night before the flower dance.  You looked so sad and alone and hurt, and a lot of us felt kinda bad that we hadn’t tried to step in and welcome you to one of our groups.  We knew that you were in a bit of a bad place at that time but nobody made the effort to try to help you change that, and I, at least, am sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, not having expected this kindness, “I was a recluse and an oddity, it is likely in my state at the time that I might have refused any help that was offered.”

Glancing over at the rest of the band, she smiled again.  “Speaking of help, thank _you_.  Both of you.  You and Lysander have been such a good influence on Alex.  He’s always been a sweetie, but kinda distant, and he always thought he was, well, in his word, ‘stupid.’  Now that he’s been hanging around with everyone here he’s a lot more confident about himself and what he can do, and I’ve caught him reading a few times.  Not just comics or magazines, actual books.  He’s found a future he wants to work for, and I haven’t seen that in him before.”

“I am grateful for his friendship as well.  He is possessed of a gentle heart, and to see him find success as well is a delight.”

Everyone else had finished packing, and Elliott noticed that Lysander had just finished a conversation with Sebastian and Abigail, who walked past him, and Haley linked up with Alex to leave, giving him one last wave and smile.  Sam also departed, but as he went by Elliott, he smirked as he gave him the gesture of two thumbs up, once more expressing his approval of his new status with Lysander.  Pinching the bridge of his nose and nearly dislodging his glasses, Elliott sighed heavily, which earned a snicker from the other blonde man.

Waiting by the door, Sebastian intercepted Lysander and asked him to follow him home, as he had something that he wanted to give to him.  Lysander agreed to this and hugged Elliott, who remarked that he would be on his way home, adding quietly that he would wait for him to arrive.  His partner’s grin was confirmation that he had heard and would definitely be showing up later, and they went their own directions; Elliott south, Sebastian and Lysander east.

He walked slowly, in no particular hurry.  It was a bit of a hike up to Sebastian’s house, and then Lysander would probably drop by his own home for a few things before coming out to the cabin.  Letting his thoughts spin, Elliott considered his novel and sighed with satisfaction at the warm tingle that the memory brought.  The time that they had spent working on it together, it had been wonderful!  And the next one should be just as delightful.

…The next one…

His stride slowed at the bridge, and he set down his satchel to rest his arms on the railing and stare out over the water.

_How strange.  It is just now that I consider the future.  For years my only driving goal has been to finish my novel.  I finished it recently, and just a bit after that submitted it, but it had not yet been PUBLISHED.  At that time it was still an uncertain future, something for which I hoped, fearing it might not happen.  But now it is certain, and strangely, I almost feel lost.  What is my future now?_

Frowning, he watched the flow of the river as he considered this line of thought.

_I do not know.  The idea of the novel has consumed me for so long that I never stopped to consider what would happen when I finished it.  That is due in part because in the deepest recesses of my mind I never thought it would happen, so I never felt the need to think about it further.  It is a certainty now, and I must find a new goal.  But…what?_

He sighed and shifted himself, resting his weight on his hands as he pushed himself up from the railing.

_I don’t know.  To be happy, I suppose?  What is it that would make me-  Ah, the answer is more easily found than I had considered.  It was an unexpected surprise, an unusual happiness.  I wonder, perhaps my future is to be more?  Not just myself, laboring away at a keyboard, but as a partner, finding joy and fulfillment with someone else._

A soft smile spread across his face as he considered this.

_Yes.  This is the new future that I shall pursue.  I cannot imagine life without him, despite the short time that we have been in each other’s company.  Perhaps it will fall apart in a year or two, as love is a fickle thing, and this could just be a strange euphoric high and nothing more.  But right now, I feel so complete with him around, and I have never felt this sort of happiness before.  He is my life, my world, and my all.  I may simply be a romance-addled fool, but however it plays out, I am glad to experience this, and I will give it everything that I have._

Satisfied with his decision, he picked up his satchel again and completed his journey home.  He noticed that the kitchen was a bit of a mess, as he hadn’t been home the night before to clean any of it up.  Since he had a little while to wait, this was as good a time as any, and he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to take care of it.

Some time later he finished, and was drying his hands just as Lysander walked in with a backpack slung over one shoulder.  He dropped the bag by the table as Elliott approached, greeting him, but the author was interrupted when Lysander _pounced_ , throwing the both of them to the floor, though somehow doing it without injury.  A little stunned, Elliott blinked a couple of times from behind glasses that had half come off, flat on his back, with Lysander straddling his hips, grinning with mischief.  He leaned down to nibble Elliott’s neck and begin slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt.  Adjusting the glasses so they sat properly on his face, Elliott was about to ask something when Lysander removed both those and his own sunglasses and set them atop the table, then returned to his original task.

“You know, I think I’m rather enjoying this after all,” he purred, “all of the anticipation of seeing and touching you without anything in the way is extremely…exciting…”  Unsure of how he should proceed, Elliott found rational thought harder to maintain as Lysander teased him with soft kisses.

_…He is my future.  I will no longer hold back.  He is MINE._

Grabbing his partner and pulling him down into a fierce hug, he took the kiss that he’d been wanting but been denied the last few minutes, then nipped Lysander’s lip.

“I want you over the table,” he growled, “ _Now._ ”

_…MINE…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	43. Character Studies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //At this point the story can diverge a bit more. The last... _lots_ of chapters had a lot of plot with the both of them that I couldn't either skip or shorten, so hopefully it wasn't a tedious retelling. Yay! More new content ahead!//

Lysander had just departed for his run with Alex, and Elliott stretched in a leisurely manner and relaxed in bed, in no particular hurry.  After being woken by a random dream that morning that Lysander had had (not quite _bad_ , but had had been a little off-putting), Elliott had been quick to assuage his fears and lift his mood, though that had been _after_ Lysander had taken offense to his laughter.  He couldn’t help it, the dream had been so strange and endearing, and had come just after Lysander had professed to not be afraid of the ocean any longer.  Perhaps some fears had deeper roots than either of them had expected.  Still, though, him a merman?  Ha!  And Lysander had claimed to have no creativity.

Enjoying the pleasurable afterglow of having (unsuccessfully) tried to make his partner late for his run, Elliott let his thoughts wander.  No longer did he have that gnawing, aching drive to write.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to write anymore, rather, it felt like, well, he did right now, after spending some _very_ nice time in Lysander’s arms.  The novel was complete, and he could relax now and enjoy the sensation of a completed project.   Perhaps later they could sit down and do a bit of writing, but for now, well, he was happily content, in many respects.  No, the next book could wait a little while, he needed to focus on the music with the band.

How perfectly strange.  While he possessed musical skill, he’d never considered himself a “musician.”  And now, here he was, a member of a local band that had the potential to become professional very soon.  It felt so surreal!  But at the same time, it also felt natural.  He had never considered himself to be “rock star” material, that mantle was much better suited for his partner, who wore it as though it were a second skin.  Performing was in _his_ blood, not Elliott’s.  …Still, though…

With a sigh, he sat up again and stretched once more, considering the possibility of lying about a _little_ longer, but he remembered that Lysander would shower at his own house after the run, not here, so he got up to clean up and get dressed.  As he put down the hairbrush a bit later and put his earrings back on, he considered the notion that he probably should be embarrassed or uncomfortable with his strange change in demeanor when feeling as strongly aroused as he had been the last few days.  However, as he thought about it further, why?  It wasn’t as though it was unlike him, it was simply a side that had never before had the opportunity to be expressed.  He liked it, actually, being so bold, confident, and determined.  It was just that he didn’t feel comfortable discussing or displaying it around anyone but Lysander.

Time seemed to fly by so quickly now!  He finished dressing, made and drank a coffee, and had a bit of time to himself before leaving for practice.  Though he left a little earlier today than he usually did, as Lysander had mentioned before he left that he was going to show Abigail how to use that sword that she’d found before practice started.  Lysander had also stated that Sebastian had loaned him a sword from his own collection, which appeared to be a twin to Abigail’s, though a longsword to her shortsword.  The dancer proved to be a decent instructor, showing her basic mechanics and good habits, and by the time they went into the community center for practice, she already felt comfortable and confident with her weapon.  Music practice went just as well, and they discussed options for their first gig, and how to go about getting it lined up, but still had no concrete solutions yet.

Afterward, Lysander locked up the building and smiled as Elliott put an arm around his waist and kissed him, walking next to him the entire way to his house.  This already felt natural, staying with each other like this.  Elliott noticed that he had slept _much_ better these last couple of nights than he had in a very long time.  It wasn’t just due to simple physical needs, it was that mental comfort of having close the person who meant so much to him.  Lysander echoed this, as since he’d had a number of partners in his past it was also a feeling that he recalled experiencing more than once.

This sensation was shared by the both of them again in the morning (in addition to a few other things), and as Lysander dressed for his run, he brought up a strange but interesting idea.  Curious, Elliott asked him to elaborate, and that familiar, cheeky grin split his face.  Costumes.  Well, not _costumes_ in the holiday or dressing-up for a party sort, stage costumes.  What one wore for a role was not necessarily what one would wear on the street.  It separated the performer from reality, from the audience, and at the same time immersed them in the role, into which the audience invested themselves.  He suggested that they trade clothes and “personalities” for the day, and Elliott immediately liked the idea.  They were so drastically different, that to impersonate the other would be to completely give up themselves, and would illustrate the point to their friends better than simply trying to talk about it.

Lysander’s garments fit comfortably, if strangely, but that was mostly due to the fact that their respective aesthetics were so drastically different from each other.  They were pleased to note that while Elliott had a slightly larger frame than Lysander did, the musician had hips a bit larger in proportion, so each other’s shirt and trousers fit them both.  Relatively speaking.  Elliott could see where the shirt could be taken in a little better around Lysander’s chest, and the sleeves on the shirt he wore were barely too short.  But these were things that only they would really notice or care about.  Lysander tied Elliott’s hair back, securing it with the ribbon, and handed him the guitar pick accessories and sunglasses, taking the silver half-rim spectacles once more.  After one last check to ensure that they looked the way they should, Elliott picked up Resonance and the newly-acquired sword, and Lysander obtained the satchel.

Leaving, they strolled without hurry, taking the time to get into character.  Lysander naturally adopted Elliott’s posture and stride in just a few minutes, but it took Elliott a little longer to figure it out, particularly since his partner was now mimicking _him_ , and that was a little confusing at first.  However, once he cleared his mind and didn’t think about it so hard, it came to him.  All he had to do was think like the other man, to put himself in Lysander’s headspace, and it clicked for him.  He thought about that warm but often daring smile, his fluid dancer’s gait, the carefree ease with which he carried himself…  By the time they had reached the town Elliott had already figured it out, and Lysander smiled and brushed his hand with his fingers; the same way that _he_ normally would.  They had done it!

Meeting up with their friends, Elliott found it nearly impossible to not crack a grin at their baffled confusion.  He was quite certain that he heard Lysander whisper, “it’s showtime,” and Elliott was the first to take the stage.  “Well, you’ve got a bigger audience than you did yesterday.  Think you can work like this or you gonna get cold feet?”  This manner and style of speaking felt strange, but it also felt right, and his smile widened at the side-eyed sniff that Lysander gave him, which was normally his to give.  He laughed with delight as he tossed the sword to his partner, and almost without looking, Lysander snatched it out of the air with one hand.

“You forget that I am a professional, dear,” he replied with dignified confidence, “not only do I perform well under scrutiny, I often thrive when observed by many.”

They had bantered often together when writing the novel, and they had learned each other’s mannerisms, idioms, and slang.  As such, trading places for their verbal sparring was second nature.  “Your confidence is an inspiration to us all, love,” he replied, and once again Lysander gave him that look, but there was his own smile in it.

“It is born of skill and training.”

_How strange to see myself mirrored like this.  Do I really carry myself with such deserved pride?  I have never felt that confident in myself or my skill, but I do not doubt his portrayal.  I want to think that I have changed much in these last few months, but seeing him now, I know that it was always there, I just needed to be made aware of it._

Perplexed, Sebastian remarked that they were being strange, to which Lysander responded that they were themselves, and therefore there was no reason for confusion.  Elliott seconded it, albeit in Lysander’s casual and snarky manner, and Sam found this to be gleefully amusing.

“Dude, you two are just crazy, and this is just awesome.  Though how far did you take the cross-dressing?  You wearing each other’s underwear, too?”

_Ah, Sam, you always try to get a rise out of us, and you have so often done so from me with such skill.  I remember recently that you will not cease your mischief until I have given you a reason to stop.  Well then, let’s see if I can give you one._

Donning the flirty smile that he so often saw Lysander wearing, he softly traced a finger from Sam’s ear to his shoulder.  The spiky-haired man’s expression quickly changed from glee to utter bafflement, and Elliott again had to resist the urge to laugh as Sam blushed deeply when he pulled him over by his shirt collar.  “How badly do you want to know,” he asked, dropping the octave and volume of his tone to a _very_ suggestive level, “and in what manner?”  Impulsively, he added a wink, recalling that his partner would do that when feeling particularly cheeky.

Oh, that wide-eyed silence was exactly what Elliott had been going for!  Maybe _now_ Sam would be a little less obnoxious in his interactions.  This must have been an excellent impersonation, as Lysander broke out laughing, therefore breaking character.  “Okay, you win, love, that was good.”  Elliott returned to his own “self,” complimenting the other man’s performance as well, but Lysander shook his head and flashed his usual grin.  “I’m the actor, but you’re the one that got my stride and attitude spot-on, and that’s hard to do.”

Elliott’s smile grew warmer and fonder at the compliment.  It had felt so strange but so much fun to be someone else for a little while.  He clearly understood Lysander’s love for the stage now, and hoped inwardly that they might have the opportunity to do something like this again.

_Wait, did I just consider role-play?  As in-  Ah!  This is not the time to think of such things!_

He was distracted from his own thoughts by Sebastian asking for clarification again.  The same as he’d explained it to Elliott earlier that morning, he asked them to think about what they had just done and how.  It wasn’t them just playing around, they were demonstrating how in order to make a name for themselves they needed a way to stand out from the proverbial crowd.  It wasn’t uncommon for musical groups to have a theme or at least some kind of “persona” associated with the band.  This produced introspection from everyone present, and Lysander was clearly glad to see that everyone was not only taking it seriously, but that the demonstration had had the desired effect.  He asked Haley if it Emily was open to a commission of this nature and scale, and the answer was positive.

“I bet she’d love to.  She’s so weird and eclectic, but that’s what makes her good at what she does, I guess.”  She was of the opinion that her sister would appreciate the challenge, and Lysander asked everyone to begin thinking up ideas for band names and outfits.  They would try to meet up with her the next day to share and expand on those ideas, as well as get preliminary measurements for whatever they would come up with.

Now that the business portion of the day was concluded, Lysander and Elliott returned to having a bit of fun and traded personalities again, this time to the amusement of their friends.  Elliott hadn’t had this much fun in a while, and amazed himself with how easily he was able to think and act like his partner.  When they left that evening and Lysander reflexively tried to retrieve the keys that were now in Elliott’s pocket, the blonde man couldn’t help himself.  This _is_ what his partner would do, and now that he had more confidence in himself, well, it was natural all-around.

He twirled the ring of keys around his finger as they walked outside before handing them over, and accepted them back once the door was locked.  “Well, looks like everything is tied up around here,” he remarked, “except for you, love, but that can wait until we get home.”  Lysander’s expression was genuine, when Elliott ran his fingers from the small of his partner’s back, past his waist, and very meaningfully grabbed his bottom.

“Dear, really now!” he gasped, and only he and Elliott knew for certain whether it was a natural or “character” reaction.  The soft redness in his cheeks and the slight widening of his eyes told the story that Elliott knew how to read, and he was quite pleased with the progression of this plot.  Everyone else just found this funny, however, and they went off in their own directions home.  The two actors went south to Elliott’s home, and Lysander gave him that soft but inquisitive smile that Elliott wore so often around him.  “So, do you intend to follow through with your suggestion?”

“That _was_ the plan, actually,” Elliott grinned, “feeling adventurous?”  This was a bold question, given that it was usually _him_ who wasn’t adventurous, but the almost-shy suggestion if they could continue to try to role-play each other the rest of the night pushed any final hesitation from Elliott’s mind.

 

At the community center the next day, they cleared the large table in the main room so that Emily could spread out a surprising number of sketches and notes.  Apparently their performance at the Luau had inspired her to do a bit of design on her own just for fun, and once she received word the day before that they wanted her to create costumes for them she almost couldn’t sleep for the ideas she had.  They took their respective pages and expressed their approval.  She had been particularly enamored with the color assignments, and had drawn up a few sketches for everyone with their own specific theme.  “I kept that idea and elaborated a bit, trying to mix elemental, well, elements into each outfit,” she explained.

They hadn’t decided on a band name or unifying theme yet, but Emily might have solved both problems for them with one stroke.  Each design clearly matched the style of the person for whom it had been designed, ranging from classy to outlandish.  Ticking off on her fingers, she named each design’s prototype label: Garnet Fire, Sapphire Water, Topaz Lightning, Emerald Earth, and Amethyst Sky.  Sam liked the idea (though not as much as Sebastian, who tried to hide it), but he was of the opinion that it sounded like a superhero group or some other sort of magical troupe of warriors.  Agreeing with this but pointing out that this _was_ the sort of thing he’d been looking for, Lysander was already enamored with the entire concept.

Trying to find a flaw in order to cover for his enthusiasm, Sebastian wondered if “obsidian” would be a better fit than “emerald,” as he wasn’t sure how much he liked the alliteration, but Emily explained that she’d gone with that because they were already using black as a base template, so the contrast would be lost on his outfit, and that names with “stone” or “rock” kept coming out rather unwieldy.  Sebastian did like green, so this wasn’t a bother, just an observation, and he studied his concept art with a smile that he didn’t realize he wore.

Naturally, Sam found something amusing and giggled, grinning at Sebastian, who told him to get it out of his system.  “Green and rocks are perfect for you,” the shorter man snickered, “because you’re a stoner.”  With obvious frustration, Sebastian reminded him that his cigarettes contained tobacco and not cannabis, but before the banter could escalate further Emily asked if she could get them individually to get their measurements before they did any further work.  There were a couple of rooms that they weren’t using, and they set one aside so that they could disrobe enough for her to get what she needed without standing around in their undergarments around everyone else.

Lysander volunteered first, as he knew it would make everyone else a bit more comfortable to not be the first to suffer scrutiny.  However, when Elliott stepped into the room and began unbuttoning his shirt, Emily had a difficult time in not smiling, and there was something about it that produced inquiry from Elliott.

She shrugged and toyed with her tape measure as she waited for him to take off his shirt.  “Sorry, just…  I’m glad to see you’re doing well, I was worried for you after that whole thing back at the saloon this spring.  Looks like you and Lys have been what each other needed.”

He blinked a couple of times as he paused in undoing the buttons on his cuffs.  “Yes, we are, but why do you-“  It occurred to him then that he had been _very_ vigorous and a bit rough the night before, having left behind a few marks on his partner.  …That normally were hidden beneath a shirt…  “Ah!  We-!  Please say nothing to anyone else,” he asked, and she giggled again, interrupting him with a playful wave.

“I don’t gossip like that, don’t worry.  Sorry to embarrass you, but really, when I saw Lys’s back like that I was actually worried for a moment, and…”

Blushing a little, Elliott cleared his throat and continued to undo buttons.  “Well, he is quite good at what he does, so to be blunt, it is to be expected, I suppose.”

She laughed heartily, both at his statement and then at his look of surprise.  “Funny enough, that’s almost exactly what _he_ said!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	44. Carefree Confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //A bit of a shorter chapter, sorry, got caught up with a few things. Still, short and sweet, as it were. And _spicy!_ :3//

Face-down on the bed and hugging a pillow, Elliott made _very_ happy sounds as Lysander worked out the knots in his back.  The copper-haired man appeared to be enjoying the activity as well, given his intermittent chuckles at some of those sounds.

“This seems to be doing good things for you,” he remarked.

“ _You_ are doing very good things,” Elliott replied, somewhat muffled by the pillow, “if you could keep working that-  Oh _gods_ , right there.”

Laughing, Lysander paused in his work to lean over and kiss the back of his partner’s neck.  “I usually don’t get _that_ out of you until late at night.”

“Your hands are amazing,” Elliott murmured, feeling extremely relaxed, though he knew it wouldn’t last much longer, as Lysander had to get going for his run in a little bit.  Another soft kiss and Lysander went back to his work, finally undoing the knot that had plagued Elliott’s shoulder for a little while.  As he got up he gave his partner a playful swat on the bottom, which was met with an amused look of contentment.

“That’s all I can do for now, I’ll get you again later tonight,” he smiled, reaching for his running pants.  Almost reluctant to move and alter the warm, relaxed sensation, Elliott shifted a little to watch him dress.  Only a _little_ lecherously, he was too mellow to think of much at all at the moment.  Still, Lysander noticed, and put on a little bit of a show of getting dressed.  “Don’t worry about getting up just yet, I’ve gotta come back for a shower, so I’ll wake you up then.”

“Mm, I would appreciate that,” mumbled Elliott, already beginning to drift off.   He smiled as he felt Lysander lean over to kiss his temple and stroke his hair, and then he remembered nothing else until the other man did the same again when returning from his daily exercise.

“This already feels normal,” Lysander chuckled as he sat down to remove his shoes.  Elliott agreed as he stretched, sat up, and returned the kiss.

“How quickly we adapted.  Perhaps I should entertain that idea of moving in, though I am hesitant to leave my cabin.”

“And it would be such a nuisance to move all of your stuff, anyway,” Lysander grinned, pinning him down in a playful hug, “besides, I think it’s still a bit early in the relationship to discuss that sort of thing just yet.”

They took their time showering and getting ready for the day, as though they did have practice that afternoon, on the days that Elliott stayed with Lysander, he was able to help with the daily chores.  Elliott was unused to this sort of work, but he adapted quickly, and after so many years of “ivory tower” life it was fascinating and edifying to work with his hands like this.  Further, though Lysander was only recently more schooled in horticulture than he was, he was still a font of knowledge and information, and happily shared what he knew.  He thought of the potted rose that he had brought from home and half-considered bringing it _here_ , but immediately dismissed it.

_He has offered, and I have considered it, but as he said, it is just a little early in the relationship to consider moving in just like that.  Although, if going by “milestones” is any indication, we have already had our first major fight, and we have become stronger for it.  I shall take each day as it comes.  Always I planned so far into the future and laid out everything exactly.  For once I am free and have no obligations or set tasks for myself.  It is time to drift upon these currents and go where things take me._

Lysander noticed his introspection and asked about it as they got changed for the day, and he averred that it wasn’t much, just that he was without a dedicated path for the first time that he could recall, but he didn’t mind it.  “I am emulating your carefree spirit,” he chuckled, running a brush through his hair one last time, “and it appears to be working well for me so far.  I am beginning to understand just why you are so successful.”

“Oh really,” returned his partner, nibbling his ear as he hugged him from behind, “I shouldn’t be doing well at all, really, remember that I just ran out here with no plan in mind and just a bit of cash in my pocket.”

“Then you have proven that you thrive in adversity.”

With no reason not to be, they were in good spirits the rest of the afternoon, and though there wasn’t a lot of _practice_ going on with the rest of the band, they did take care of a lot of planning and administrative work that should have been taken care of earlier.  As they packed and cleaned up, Elliott noticed Lysander and Haley conversing quietly and furtively, and when they noticed that he was looking they both giggled and smirked at him, sharing a private joke.

“Beer,” stated Sam with conviction, “I need it, we’re getting it.”

“Hard to argue with _that_ argument,” Lysander snickered, “but that sounds good, I’m in.”

Everyone else was also in the mood for some kind of relaxing food or drink, and in what seemed to be a weekly habit, departed as a group for the saloon.  Half of them grabbed a table for themselves and the other half placed various orders with Gus, so that not only was he not overwhelmed by everyone ordering at once, but one single person didn’t have to remember the entire order.  Shortly, they had what they wanted, and tucked in with gusto, forgoing conversation for a little bit.  Sam, naturally, was the first to satisfy himself for the moment, and set down a pizza crust to pick up and drink the last of his beer.  The first, anyway.

“This is the life, y’know?  I wanna make it big so bad, but at the same time, even if it never happens, this has been awesome enough.  I’m happy with how far I’ve gotten.”

Grinning and poking Sam on the forehead, Lysander finished his own beer as well.  “Don’t defeat yourself before success can happen.  We’re almost there, trust me.  Once we get the outfits and promo materials done all we need is a venue and we’re there.  Don’t worry about that last bit, we can’t do anything for a little bit anyway, and I’ve still got all of my old contacts back in the city, so I’ll see if I can pull in a few favors here and there.”

He grunted and barely caught his glass from being knocked off of the table as Sam slammed into him with his usual full-contact hug.  “Totes.  My.  Bestie,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “you’re always right.  Yeah, we are gonna totally be a hit, and it’s gonna be soon.  Yessss!”

Having found his energy again, Sam bounded up and trotted over to the jukebox to queue up a few things, most of them just to listen to, but a couple everyone recognized as a not-very-subtle hint for Lysander to get up and dance.  Sam and Abigail got a kick out of his lessons and were picking up on it rather quickly.  They still lacked his grace, and so while they had the steps down, the style was still a bit lacking.  Even so, they had fun, and that was really the entire point.  There were a couple of jazzy pieces that Emily liked, and she roped Lysander into some swing dance, which left her sweating and tired, though her partner showed no fatigue.

The music changed to the next track, and Elliott perked up a little bit.  It was one of the ones that he and Lysander liked, and had danced to often at home.  But here?  In front of everyone?  Also recognizing the song, Lysander smiled and held out his hand, the request silent but understood: _dance with me_.

_In front of everyone?  I can’t, I…  I can.  I can do anything with him by my side._

Sam noticed this and laughed.  “Not likely, dude, he’s way too-  Wait, what?”

Elliott matched his partner’s smile and stood, walking over to take his hand.  The entire band watched with surprise, as short of the accidental incident at the Luau, nobody had seen them dance together before.

“Glad you could make it,” Lysander remarked, waiting for the intro to finish.

“Would I ever miss the opportunity to dance with you?”

Nobody else mattered.  It was just them and the music, and they owned the floor.  Elliott could not have done this back in spring.  He couldn’t have done it this summer.  It was now that he had the confidence in himself to not worry about what others would think.  When he thought about it, that confidence and self-assurance had always been there, but he had refused to acknowledge them.  He had been unable to let himself see his own worth and accomplishments.  Lysander had held up the mirror that he needed, and for the first time in his life he _was_.  He finally felt alive, that he was actually _living_ and not simply _existing_.

The music ended too soon, but there would always be another time.  Delighted, Lysander hugged him around the neck and kissed him on the cheek, taking his hand to sit down again.  “I’ve wanted to do that with you forever, love.”

“We have danced together many times before, dear,” Elliott replied as he refilled their drinks, “what is so different this-“  He paused as he considered this train of thought and chuckled to himself.  “Of course.  This is the first time we have danced in front of others.  _Intentionally_ ,” he added, giving Sam a meaningful glare.  Lysander squeezed his hand and gave him the smile that did such erratic, wonderful things to his pulse and stomach.

“Heh, it’s cool to see you two so happy together,” Sam remarked, sipping on his third beer, “though you looked happy with the last guy.  Sucks it didn’t work out, I guess, but you two look like a much better fit anyway.”

Perplexed, Elliott stared at Sam as he tried to parse this remark.  “I…beg your pardon?”

Lysander gasped with delight and put his chin in his hands, grinning with glee.  “Oooh, so I’m not your first male conquest after all?  Spill it, girlfriend!”

“I-  What?  No!” Elliott replied, confused but not embarrassed, and turned back to Sam, “what _are_ you talking about?”

With a thoughtful frown, Sam gave him an equally confused look.  “The first day you were here, when you were looking for a place to live.  Vincent and I were playing on the beach and you and some other dude were talking with the mayor.”

Pulling up the memory and time frame in question, the pieces finally clicked and Elliott groaned with frustration.  “Sam, that was my brother.”  Lysander burst out laughing (as did Abigail and Haley), and Sam’s eyes crossed a little as he also re-examined his memories.

“Ohhh.  Hunh, yeah, I see the resemblance now.”  He shrugged with casual indifference and took another drink of his beer.  “I just thought you had a thing for redheads.”

Elliott sighed and removed the half-rim spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose between his fingers while Lysander removed his sunglasses to wipe his eyes.

 

Two nights later, they were on the way back to Lysander’s home after practice, and again the mischievous man and Haley had conversed quietly, and a package had exchanged hands.  Elliott asked about it, but only got a sly smile and a promise that he’d find out soon enough.  This enigmatic reply didn’t satisfy, but there was little else to be done except wait, so Elliott put it from his mind and continued the journey to his partner’s home.

As they walked in, Lysander bit his lip, looking _very_ amused and told Elliott to go have a seat on the couch.  “I’ve got something for you,” he grinned, setting aside Resonance and taking off his boots by the door and taking with him the mysterious package.

“If it’s as interesting as the other night then I look forward to it,” he replied, remembering that Lysander had surprised him by wearing the same outfit that he had in the photo; the crop-top shirt, low-rise jeans, thong, and high heels.  Dear _gods_ that had done good things for him…  Likewise discarding his shoes and satchel, he pulled out his phone and reclined on the couch, checking up on a few things.

“There we go, that took a little longer than last time, but totally worth the wait, I think.”  Looking up at the voice from behind him, Elliott was about to ask what Lysander had meant by that, and his mouth went dry as his throat (and front of his trousers!) became very tight.  Same as last time, he wore the black crop top and thong, as well as the heels, but had exchanged the jeans for black thigh-high stockings.  He had also undone his hair and added the mascara and lipstick like last time, and the entire package had somewhat overloaded Elliott’s mind.         

With a hand on one hip, Lysander smiled down at his partner, enjoying the effect that he was having on him.  “I think you’ll want these in a few minutes,” he whispered, pressing a couple of items into Elliott’s hand as he brushed his lips with a soft kiss, “if you can wait that long.  Now, I remember that I danced this for everyone a while back, but not the way it _should_ have been done.  It’s your lucky night, love, you get a private show.”

The dance that he had performed for everyone else, the first one that Elliott had ever seen him perform, the one that had left him completely smitten…  Lysander flowed into the starting pose, flashed him a smile that left _no_ doubt as to what was going to happen, and began to dance.

Elliott very nearly couldn’t hold himself back that few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	45. Woods and Wouldn’ts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Here's a longer chapter to make up for Monday's half-assed attempt. Yay! Also, in case you missed it, I accidentally uploaded an incomplete chapter last time. I fixed it a few hours later, but go back and catch the end of the bar scene if you haven't seen the update. It's worth it; I've wanted that snippet in the story for MONTHS. :D//

The next evening Lysander remarked that he had an errand to take care of that would take all day.  Elliott inquired about it as he checked the temperature of what he was cooking, and only got that usual, mischievous grin that told him absolutely nothing.

“You’ll see later, love,” Lysander replied, pocketing his phone and kissing Elliott on the cheek, “just something I’ve wanted to take care of for a little while.  Anyway, I think I’ve got the hang of this.  Wish I’d had you for a cooking instructor ages ago.  I’ve never been incompetent, but still, I can’t say I’ve liked much of what I’ve made.”

Elliott returned the kiss and reached for plates.  “I think that we both have a number of qualities that we didn’t appreciate, realize, or improve upon until we met each other.”  Agreeing with his statement, Lysander set about pouring drinks.  Still wondering what it was that he’d been talking about, Elliott considered pressing further, but decided to let it be and finish cooking.  If it was important Lysander would have given details, and from his reaction he had some sort of surprise or secret in mind that he’d likely find out about soon enough.

 

Yawning, Elliott got out of bed himself, as Lysander had just departed a few minutes earlier for his run.  As he’d see nothing else of his companion for the rest of the day, he ran through a list of errands and things that needed to be done as he stepped into the shower.  He took his time, enjoying the heat and warmth that soaked into him, though he _did_ miss having someone there with him.  It had been such a recent change to his routine, but he had already grown accustomed to it.

_Am I asking too much, I wonder?  This is a “honeymoon period” of sorts, and I am not certain how long this will last.  Perhaps our mutual fascination with each other will taper off over the next few weeks.  I certainly hope that it doesn’t, but at the same time, I cannot help but be realistic.  I will not worry or look for problems, I will enjoy our time together and work toward a future that includes us both.  It is a curse to be so pragmatic._

Leisurely, he dressed and made his way to the kitchen, preparing a cup of coffee and checking his phone for anything important.  There wasn’t.  He took stock of his food stores and other consumables and perishables, and determined that a quick grocery run was needed.

It was early fall, so the weather still retained its heady warmth, but the days already grew shorter and Elliott could feel the breeze beginning to chill.  He didn’t feel the need to wear a coat, however, and walked with his hands in his pockets to Pierre’s, greeting people as he went.  Knowing what he needed and where to find it, he was quick to fill his bag, and took a few minutes to catch up with Pierre.  They didn’t have much in common, to be honest, but Abigail’s involvement with Sam’s band was enough, and Elliott was glad to see her father not only take interest in it, but approve of her activities.

On his way back, he encountered Leah, who was just about to walk in.  “Oh, Elliott, hi!” she grinned, “I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.  Busy much?”

“Ah, my apologies, I have been somewhat busy and-  No, no excuses, I should have made time to see you again sooner,” he replied, now realizing how he’d neglected some of his previous contacts.

Laughing, she waved him off.  “It’s not a problem at all.  I’ve heard of what you and everyone else are up to and you sound _crazy_ busy.  Though I don’t know if you’re still writing now that you’ve finished your book.”  She glanced at the store and back at Elliott.  “Hey, if you give me two minutes to grab something I can keep chatting, if you’re not off to do something else.”

“It is no bother at all,” he chuckled, following her back in, “Lysander is busy today so I am left to my own devices.  All that I have immediately is to put away my own purchases, which can happen at any time.”

“Sweet!  Awright, be right back.”  In the promised two minutes, she returned with her own shopping bag slung over her shoulder.  “Off to your place, I guess, is there anything you _do_ want to do?”

He thought about the question as they walked and shook his head.  “This was all that I specifically needed to do.  How about you?  Is there anything that you would like to get done?”

“Wellllll,” she thought out loud, tapping a finger to her chin, “I was gonna go foraging a bit, but I can do that tomorrow, the weather will still be good.”

Intrigued, he led the way back to his cabin.  “That actually sounds interesting.  You forage for your own food?”

“Yeah, not a _lot_ , but I do supplement a lot of my diet that way.  It’s _so_ healthy and fresh, and it saves a lot of money.  You wanna come with?”

“I would like that.  I don’t think that I will be of any help, but at the least I can be company.”

She grinned and bounced in place, clapping happily.  “This’ll be neat, I’ll get to show you so much cool stuff.  There are so many good mushrooms this time of year.”

“Mushrooms?  Isn’t it dangerous to harvest those yourself?”

“Only if you’re untrained,” she replied, gesturing for emphasis, “and I’m very trained.  Plus, I’ve studied the flora of this place inside and out, and have actually been helping Gunther update and improve the books on the plant life here for a while now.  Let’s stop by my place once we drop off your stuff so I can drop _this_ off and get my other bags.”

They conversed as they walked, and Elliott was glad for the opportunity.  Leah was a good friend and he felt quite bad that he’d not reached out to anyone outside of the band in far too long.  As they passed westward through the south part of town, they encountered Haley as she left her home, and she smiled with obvious glee.

“You’re welcome,” she giggled, and Leah frowned in confusion as Elliott blushed in embarrassment.

“I…  Yes, that was…a surprise,” he responded, very vividly remembering what she had supplied for his partner.  Leah shifted her look to Elliott, and his blush deepened.  “Ah…  She and Lysander collaborated on something, for my benefit.”  He cleared his throat and looked away, trying not to think of what Lysander had looked like, but he couldn’t help himself from doing so, and both women laughed heartily at his expression.

“Oh WOW.  Tell me what it was,” Leah gasped, and laughed even harder as Elliott refused to make eye contact.  “Awww, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s no worry, it’s just that, well…”  He cleared his throat again, and still unable to look directly at them, gave a brief description of the brief number of items that Lysander had worn.  Trying to sound impartial and uninterested, he still couldn’t help getting descriptive, and trailed off when he saw their matching expressions of fascinated amazement.

“You are _such_ a lucky man,” Leah gasped, hands on her face and eyes wide.

The embarrassed flush became one of flattered satisfaction, and Elliott coughed again, finding a smile.  “You are interested in that sort of thing?”

“Nah,” she replied, giggling as she imagined what the scene must have looked like, “I like something a bit more stylish.  A three-piece suit is to women what lingerie is to men, you know.  I’m just saying that he must really love you, ‘cause he put a lot of thought and work into that, and I bet he probably hasn’t done that for anyone else before.”

Haley put her chin in her hand and sighed wistfully, thinking of something.  “ _I_ wouldn’t mind seeing that.  It would be a great chance to try boudoir photography or the like, I haven’t had the opportunity to do that yet.”  She glanced over at Elliott and waved her hands as she tried to clarify.  “I mean, it’s not that I want your boyfriend to strip for me, I want him to _model_ some time.  I’ve done a lot of photos with people, but I haven’t been able to do figure studies or specific posing.  You know?”

Amused, Elliott chuckled, feeling a bit better that the discomfiture had been shared.  “I completely understand, and I am absolutely certain that if you ask he will happily comply.  He is completely comfortable with his self and body, but he remains courteous of what others might think.  And at the risk of appearing rude, I think we all have errands to attend.”

“Yeah, I gotta run,” Haley remarked, checking her phone, “but it was great running into you two.  See you tomorrow for practice.  And again, you’re welcome!”  Sighing and shaking his head with good humor, Elliott echoed the farewell and walked again with Leah toward the forest.

“I’ll say it again, you are _such_ a lucky a man,” Leah said, shifting her bag to her other shoulder, “and he has just been so good for you in every sense.  You are just looking…wow, you know?  Looks like your relationship going to this level has really been good for you.”  She giggled again at the surprised look he gave her and shoved him playfully.  “I’m being honest!  And seriously, sometimes you just need to get _laid_.”  He stammered an incoherent reply amidst her laughter, and she opened the door to her cottage to duck inside.  “I am actually jealous of him, you are absolutely precious.  But I had my chance last year, so I can’t whine about a missed opportunity.  There, got my foraging stuff, let’s go!”  She handed him a bag and strode off confidently into the forest.

Her knowledge of the Cindersap Forest was almost staggering.  Not only did she know the entire place from memory, but she also recalled where particular items could routinely be found, as well as where she had been recently, in order to not over-harvest or visit areas she knew to be empty.  They walked for several hours, filling her bags and basket with berries, herbs, mushrooms, fruits, and the occasional tuber and root vegetable.  In addition to the bags, she had brought along a satchel that carried digging and cutting tools, as well as a pair of heavy gloves (which came in handy when they got to the wild blackberry hedge!), and she only took what she needed each time around.

As they walked and worked, she pointed out what was and wasn’t safe, as well as why and how.  Fascinated, Elliott listened with rapt attention, asking numerous questions and examining her finds with scrutiny.  “I think truffles grow here,” she noted as she harvested a particularly large brown mushroom, “but only pigs are really good at sniffing them out, and I’m just not that good with animals.  Also, I just don’t have the space and all to keep one.  Though I have considered talking to Marnie about it and just renting it for a day, but I’d be harvesting the truffles for myself and not for profit, so it would be totally one-sided.”  She stood up and brushed dirt off of her knees.  “Pigs are good for rooting out a _lot_ of stuff, really, so it would be useful for a lot of things, but unless I went into business selling what I find, it just wouldn’t make sense.”

Examining the mushroom, Elliott asked her how she knew that this one was safe to eat.  “You said that one needs to be trained in order to know the difference between safe and toxic varieties.  I trust in your knowledge, but you’ve never found a bad one?”

“I took a class on the plants of the valley when I was at the community college, and I learned a lot there.  When I came out here I read every book the library had, and damn near talked Gunther’s ear off.  Even then, I took pictures and notes of everything out here and did research and talked to people before I actually tried any.  For instance, I wanted to make sure that what looked safe elsewhere wasn’t actually toxic here.  I’ve read about stories like that and didn’t want to be one myself!”

When the shadows grew long they returned to her cottage to look over their harvest, and she bounced on her toes again when they set their cargo on the table.  “Wow, I got a _lot_ today.  Having someone else to help made this a lot easier.  And a lot more fun!  We’ve got to do this again when you have the time.  Oh!  Maybe next time Lys can come, too.  With all he’s doing at the farm up there I bet he’d love this.”

“He most definitely would.  He isn’t the outdoorsy sort, but he does love the opportunity to learn.  I do not know when we will have this time again, but when we do I shall definitely let you know.”

She returned his promise with a smile as she pulled out a small basket and began rummaging through their haul.  “Sweet.  So, what kind of fruit do you two like?”

Caught off-guard, he thought for a moment, trying to remember his partner’s preferences.  “I love pomegranates, but those aren’t found here.  We are both very partial to strawberries, and as I recall he likes most of the sweeter berries, and isn’t as partial to the tart ones.  Why do you ask?”

“I figured I should share a bit of the love.  Just packing a small basket for you to take back and share with him.”

“Ah!  That’s not necessary,” he replied, flattered but hesitant, “I don’t want to take away from your stocks.”

“Whatever.  You helped, you get a cut of the loot.  Besides, I bet you’ve never had fresh forest berries before.  Bake ‘em in a pie, serve cold with cream, whatever you choose, they’re delicious.  There!  Here y’go, take these with you.  Thanks so much for your help.”

Smiling, he took the basket with a variety of the berries that they had foraged, and immediately thought of a few things he could do.  “My thanks as well.  This was a good day out, and I am glad for the exercise, fresh air, and excellent company.”  He accepted her friendly hug as he departed, and walked home feeling quite pleased with the day’s events, and wondered how Lysander’s day was going.  He’d not heard from him at all that day, and he admitted to himself that he missed him, though he felt glad that he wasn’t worried.

The basket was set upon the kitchen counter as he rummaged for a few items, then it was upended in the sink to wash and drain its contents.  He set the fruit aside to dry and put the basket where he would remember to take it back to Leah the next time he was in town.  Since he hadn’t heard from his partner yet, he decided to make a quick meal to tide himself over until the next day.  He didn’t realize how hungry he’d been until he ate, and ate much faster than he had expected.  The dishes were washed and put way, and the fruit into a sealed container in the fridge to do something with later.

It had been quite a long day.  Yawning, he unbuttoned his waistcoat as he walked to the bedroom and hung it up, then began working the ones on his shirt.  He felt a little disappointed that Lysander wouldn’t be there, but then, it’s not as though they could realistically spend every-

_A motorcycle?_

He paused and turned toward the other room, hearing the faint sound of what was unmistakably a motorcycle engine, and walked back into the other room.  The sound was getting louder, so it was coming in this direction, and now he was both confused and concerned.  As he opened the door the sound stopped, as the bike had parked next to his home.

“Sebastian?” he asked, peering out, “What brings you-  No, you’re…”  The bike was black like Sebastian’s, but the rider wore red and black mesh riding gear, not the leathers that Sebastian favored.  Besides, both ride and rider were larger than his friend, and immediately Elliott made the connection and smiled broadly.  “Dear?”  The rider removed their helmet, shaking out their hair, and Elliott’s guess had been correct.

“Hey love, what do you think?”

Lysander sat astride a large black sport cruiser, of a similar style to Sebastian’s, but of a different make, and already Elliott could tell that he was comfortable with handling it.  “I think you look amazing, and it suits you.  That is a lovely piece of machinery.”  He reached out to offer a hand as the other man dismounted, his helmet under his arm.  “Come in, tell me all about it, I’ll have a better look at it in the morning.”

“Sure.  Ah, though I…”  Lysander paused just inside the door to think about something, then sighed heavily.  “Okay, I’ll just say it like it is, I kissed Sebastian tonight.”

Some people would have become angry at hearing this, others hurt, but Elliott knew his partner well already, and from the look of guilt that Lysander wore, it clearly hadn’t been for any ulterior reason.  “Did he enjoy it?” he asked as he took a seat, feeling quite happy that such a good day would end with them together.  Lysander did a double-take and replied that he wasn’t joking, and Elliott smiled to take away the edge of his tease.  “Then I imagine that you had a reason.  You seem very torn up about it, so clearly it’s causing you trouble.  Talk to me, dear, what’s on your mind?”

Examining his helmet for a moment, Lysander set it on the table and rested his weight on the same, unable to meet Elliott’s eyes.  “We had just finished the purchase at the shop when he suggested going to his favorite place to just…chill.  It was a great ride out, I’ll have to take you that way some time.  We went to a place that overlooks the city and just hung out a bit.  He likes it there because it’s both near and far away from everything, and the view is amazing.  I’m glad he shared it with me.”  The flicker of a smile graced his lips, but only for a moment.

“And then…  You know I’m a bit of an airhead and just kinda zone out sometimes.  I did, and just wandered back through some old memories with my last boyfriend, ‘cause it reminded me of then, and Sebastian of him, and…  I just forgot where I was and who I was with.  He suggested that we head on home, and like I always did with…him… I just…”  Shifting a little, his gaze remained firmly on a point somewhere on the floor.  “He wasn’t offended, at least.  ‘Bas, that is.  He actually found it a bit funny when it was all figured out.  But still, I feel like I totally cheated on you and…”

Elliott regarded him with a fond, soft smile.  “What was his name?”

Finally looking up, Lysander gave him a puzzled look.  “Who?”  Comprehension dawned and he looked away again.  “Oh.  Allen.  Why do you ask?”

“So I can better understand your past and help you move on.  He was truly dear to you, and I cannot blame you for missing him and all that you did together.”  He stood and walked over to his partner, putting his hands on his partner's waist.  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about all of this, that is what matters the most to me.”  Lysander’s smile was weak, but it was enough.  “But we must continue this conversation at a later date.  Come, join me.  It is late, and you can get home quickly in the morning now that you have transportation.  I imagine that your mind will be assuaged by staying at my side, though I lack the energy to please you tonight.”

Lysander’s smile returned completely, and he hugged Elliott in return and kissed him with relief.  “That’s okay, love, I’m wiped too.  Though I’m already feeling better for just being able to talk to you about it.”

He asked for help in removing his riding gear, as he was barely able to stand on his own as well, and once divested of his safety equipment, began to discard his normal clothes as he led the way to the bedroom.  He tossed his shirts in a pile on the floor and sat on the bed to take off his boots, then removed his pants and slid under the sheets.  Elliott wasn’t far behind, hanging up his shirt with the waistcoat and removing his trousers to hang up with the same.  Turning out the lights and joining his partner, he curled up around him, an arm under the pillow and the other around Lysander’s waist, the other man’s breathing already slow and even.  He kissed his neck and drifted off, likewise asleep in just minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	46. Love and Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //This book is going to run SO LONG and I DON'T CARE. :D//

Waking with Lysander in his arms, Elliott enjoyed the feeling of just holding him before he had to get up and head back to his house.  It reassured him in a way, that even though they hadn’t been intimate the previous night, he felt no pressing need for it.  It would have been nice, but he didn’t feel disappointment at the lack of it or the need to make up for it.  Perhaps there _was_ something to their relationship, that it could be more than just a temporary infatuation.  Sighing with relief, he kissed his neck again, allowing all of his senses to drift and take in sensations.

Finally, Lysander awoke as well, blinking away sleep and looking blearily over his shoulder to smile at Elliott.  “Hey love, I’ve gotta get going in just a few, since I’ll hafta get home and get changed quickly to make the run.”

“I am unperturbed,” replied the blonde man, now able to kiss him properly, “do what you need to in order to meet your appointments.  I shall catch up with you later today, perhaps?”

Rolling over completely to hug Elliott, he considered something, and nibbled his partner’s ear as he sat up and got out of bed.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.  I _was_ thinking of having a quick shag before I ran off, but I _do_ need to get going.  Sorry, love, but-“

“Later, dearest,” Elliott reassured, “I had thought of the same, and to be honest, I am glad that it isn’t a burning _need_.  I had worried that our relationship only had a physical basis, but I am relieved to know that while it is has mutual attraction it isn’t the only reason for our relationship.”

Leaning over the bed to kiss him again, Lysander traced soft fingers down his partner’s face.  “I’ve had more relationships than I can count, so it probably doesn’t mean a damn thing, but I promise, love, this is more than just a passing fling.  I want you.  I _need_ you.  You complete me.  I’ll stay by your side as long as you’ll have me.”

Lysander gasped with surprise as Elliott grabbed him and pulled him back into bed in a full-body hug, digging his fingers into his hair and back.  “My heart, body, and soul are yours, dearest.  I owe you more than I can express, and my only fear is that I might never be able to repay you for all that you have done for me.”

With a giggle, Lysander snuggled into the hug, squeezing him back, and got up again.  “Thanks, love, I think I needed to hear that.  Meet you later at the park before practice?  I wanna hear about your day.”

“And I am interested in hearing about your adventure as well.  Go, ride, don’t be late.”

Elliott got out of bed as well to help Lysander more quickly get into and snug up his riding gear, and shared one last kiss before the rider dashed out and swung a leg over the bike.  He would have gone outside to see him off, but he hadn’t bothered to grab any clothes before assisting his partner.  As he returned to the bedroom to continue on the way to the shower, he paused in the main room to ponder the fact that only a few months ago he would have felt completely embarrassed to be nude in his own home, even alone like this.  Now?  It was his home, he was alone, it was a comfortable temperature, and he felt secure in his own skin.

He smiled to himself and stretched languidly as he strolled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, removing his earrings before stepping into the hot steam.  Again he missed Lysander’s presence, but it was a minor ache, not a need.

A little later, after some coffee, he picked up his satchel and left, heading for the park.  The breeze continued to chill, but it wasn’t cold just yet, and Elliott estimated another three weeks before he would need a coat.  He didn’t encounter anyone of note on his way, and though he would have liked to have met Leah again just to thank her for the berries, he was certain that they would get sidetracked for a long time.

Arriving at the park, he lounged comfortably on a bench, closing his eyes and feeling the sweet caresses of the sun and wind, then that of his partner, who had just arrived.  “Hey love, you look happy.”

“I have no reason not to be, particularly now that you are here.”

Lysander set Resonance on the ground, leaning against the bench, put his sword next to it, and sat down next to his partner, hips touching, and put an arm around his waist.  “So, you looked almost as tired as I was last night.  What’d you do?  Anything fun?”

An arm around Lysander’s shoulders, Elliott kissed him on the cheek and gazed idly at the fountain.  “I caught up with Leah, of all people.  I have been remiss in maintaining our friendship and took the time to make amends for it.  We talked of what we had been doing in the time since we last met, and she took me with her foraging in the forest.”

Leaning up a bit to grin at him, Lysander appeared genuinely intrigued.  “Really?  That must’ve been pretty nifty.  I’m a lot closer to her than you are but we hardly ever speak.  I really should fix that.”

“She remarked something similar, and that she would like to take us both some time.  I do not know if it will be a skill that will be terribly useful for us, but I found the opportunity to learn more about our home an irresistible offer.  Oh!”  He snapped his fingers as he suddenly remembered something.  “She gave me a basket of some of our find to take home.  We found a number of berries and fruit that I am certain that you like, and I would like your input as to what to do with them.”

“Oooh!”  Lysander’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and Elliott couldn’t help but mirror his smile.  “Tell me you got strawberries.”

“And blackberries, which put up much more of a fight, as well as a few others.  I believe that we shall be staying at your home tonight, but perhaps tomorrow?”

Giggling again, Lysander hugged him tighter.  “I’ll look up recipes.”

“I look forward to it.  For now, tell me of _your_ day.  It was quite the surprise to see you ride up like that last night.”

“You know how my day ended, but yeah, I hooked up with Sebastian at my place, and I rode out with him to the place in the city where he got his bike.  We poked around a bit, looked at a few models, and found one that just fit.  I took it out for a quick test ride and, well, funny as it sounds, it sang to me.”  He shrugged and huffed a chuckle.  “So we got the paperwork started to buy it and I picked up the safety gear as well, ‘cause all I had was the helmet that ‘Bas loaned me, so I picked up everything I could, head to toe.  Well, except for boots, I have some and they’re good for what I need.  So we got all of that, paid for it all, got my paperwork and stuff, and then we headed off to that place where we-“

Lysander cut himself off and hunched a little, looking away.  Nibbling his ear to make him giggle Elliott hugged his shoulder.  “Dear, I told you, I am not offended or bothered in any way.”

“I know, I just-“

Elliott interrupted him with a deep, probing, and satisfying kiss that left Lysander somewhat breathless and very pleased.  “ _That_ is why I am not bothered,” Elliott smiled, which shifted to a smirk, “though I _must_ know, how do I compare to Sebastian?  I am not a jealous man, but I do like to know all I can about my competition.”  To his delight, Lysander blushed and looked away again, and he tilted his partner’s chin up to gently kiss him, letting their touch linger.  “So it appears that one of the few ways in which I can tease you is to remind you of previous conquests.”

“He wasn’t a conquest, love!” protested Lysander, “I just thought he was-“

“Dearest, I tease,” Elliott sighed, putting a finger to his lips, “I understand.  He is attractive, and from what I understand, the sort of personality and build to which you are attracted.  Also, as you mentioned last night, he reminds you of your last lover, who was quite dear to you.  Fear not.  Tell me of anything you wish, and I will not hold it against you.  I wish to know of all of you, of your past as well as your present.  I cannot truly understand you unless I know all that I can about you.”

The warm smile returned, and Lysander nestled into Elliott’s shoulder again.  “Yeah.  I will.  Over munchies, though, I see everyone arriving, so it’s time for Abby’s lessons before practice.”  He returned the wave that Sam gave to him, and the lead guitarist trotted over and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

“Gods, you two are stupid-cute already.  Speedrunning a relationship or something?”

Elliott wasn’t sure what this term meant, but apparently Lysander did, as he stuck his tongue out at his friend and grinned.  “If we are, then that means we’d be getting married by early next year, and we sure as hell don’t have the money for that, among other things.”  He paused as a strange thought took him, then shook it off and shrugged.  “Anyway, my focus right now is the band.”

Walking up with her own sword in her hand, Abigail caught only Lysander’s remark.  “Hey, speaking of, we got any idea where we’re gonna play?  I dunno about the rest of you, but I think we’re pro material now, and if we don’t move soon we’re gonna lose the inertia we picked up from the Luau.”

“I was thinking about that,” Lysander replied, greeting everyone else as they walked up, “and I was thinking that we could try scouting Zuzu City together in a day or two.  I just bought a bike yesterday, so between that, ‘Bas, and Alex, we’ve got a ride for all of us.  And it would let us get the hell out of town for a little while.”

Everyone exchanged glances, clearly on-board with the idea.  Sebastian shifted his weight to his other leg and folded his arms across his chest as he mentally did a few calculations.  “We’re still short a helmet, though, that’s a bit dangerous, and I think Alex’s truck can only fit three.”

Lysander looked critically at Elliott and did his own mental math.  “If Elliott can wear my helmet just fine, then I can pop out to the shop tonight or tomorrow really fast to grab him one, and Abby can use your old spare, ‘Bas.  If he needs a different size, though, then we’ll both head out and get him fitted tomorrow and then we can meet up together the next day.  Sound good?”

This worked out for everyone, and they all took seats to watch the show as Lysander got up and retrieved his sword to instruct Abigail in swordplay as he’d promised.

Fortuitously, not only was the plan for Elliott to stay at Lysander’s, so he was immediately able to try on the helmet, but it fit snugly and comfortably, so Lysander was able to purchase one for him the next day.  He pulled up to Elliott’s cabin that evening with his prize in tow, and refused all of Elliott’s attempts at repaying him for it.

“It’s my ride, love, so I’m looking out for your safety.  To be honest, I don’t feel comfortable with you riding behind me unless you’re geared like I am.”

“If we leave earlier than everyone else we should have time enough to allow me to purchase gear like yours,” Elliott suggested, and Lysander nodded, having thought of the same.

“That’s what I was figuring.  We’ll ride slowly just in case, ‘cause I really do worry that something’s going to go wrong until I put a jacket on you.”

Turning over the helmet in his hands, Elliott looked at the path back into town.  “Perhaps we could give it a try now? There is still enough light out for a quick ride, and it would allow us both to get used to riding together before we need to be on roads with traffic.”

Lysander’s warm, delighted smile melted Elliott from the inside out, and he brushed his cheek with gloved fingers and his lips with his own.  “You have no idea how much I want to.  Here, let me help you get that on and adjusted.  Oh!  Let’s find you a hair tie, I’ll show you how to tuck it in like I do.  You are going to get epic tangles and the most wicked split ends if you don’t.”

Five minutes later, the helmet in place and his hair inside as Lysander had shown him, Elliott raised the visor and watched his partner mount the vehicle, turn it over, and take it off of the kickstand.  “Okay, same as ‘Bas told me: just hold on and relax.  Don’t worry about leaning or shifting with me, just let yourself go.  Basically be a sack of potatoes or something, I’ll do all the work.”

Elliott’s pulse suddenly raced as he got onto the machine behind his partner, nervous but excited.  Hugging him gently around the waist, he shifted himself a little to get the feel for the seat, then hooked the heels of his shoes over the foot pegs for the passenger.  Now that his weight was completely on the bike and nothing else, he leaned forward and gripped Lysander more firmly in a moment of fear, then relaxed and admonished himself.  Lysander chuckled softly, and Elliott couldn’t see his smile, but he saw the way it touched and lit up his eyes.  Returning the smile, he relaxed again and allowed himself to be a “sack of potatoes,” as the other man had put it.

“Here we go.  I’ll drive slow through town, then pause by the bus stop in case you need to change position or something.”

The motorcycle growled with acceleration and moved forward without any lurching or inelegance.  The sand gave poor purchase, but that swiftly gave way to paved road and the bridge, and in moments they were riding through town.  Elliott worried that it would be too loud, but for all of the size of the bike, it wasn’t that _noisy_.  He realized halfway through the plaza that he was tense as piano wire and forced himself to relax, instead examining their route.  It was the same as he’d walked so many times before, but this time…

As promised, Lysander stopped at the bus stop, checking to see how Elliott was doing.  “I’m not going to go fast or get on a main road, I’ll just go up and down this way a few times so you can get used to us moving at speed.  If you ever at _any_ time feel uncomfortable or need me to stop, tap my chest.  Here, do it now, I want to make sure that you can.  Okay, good, don’t be afraid to thump and really get my attention.  Your safety is the most important thing right now.  Ready?  Onward!”

For about fifteen or twenty minutes they rode up and down that strip of road, until the shadows grew long enough to disappear and the stars emerge from their cloak of day.  Elliott felt _much_ more comfortable and confident, and actually anticipated the trip to the city tomorrow.  He mentioned this once they pulled up at his cabin and dismounted, then fumbled with the chin strap that secured the helmet.  Removing his gloves, Lysander guided his fingers to the buckle, and showed him where he needed to press and tug in order to open it so that he could remove his headgear.  Once the chin strap was undone, Elliott removed the helmet as instructed, and gratefully let the breeze blow through his hair.  Lysander appeared to be of the same mind, as he drew his ponytail through his hand to straighten it.

“I do enjoy riding, and this gear feels proper safe, but damn if I don’t feel good getting back _out_ of it afterward.  Well, looks like we’re gonna get you geared up tomorrow.  How’s that feel?”

Hugging the helmet to his chest, Elliott studied the motorcycle with new eyes and awareness.  “I feel…ecstatic.  I prefer the safety and comfort of a car, but this was exhilarating, and I know that the trip to the city will be much more so.  This is a beautiful, well-crafted piece of machinery, and the two of you already move together in synchronous.  I feel no fear riding with you and on it.”

“ _Morgenlied_ ,” Lysander replied with a smile, then gestured to the bike.  “That’s its name.  It told me.”  He shrugged and grinned, and Elliott could see that he was a little embarrassed at this admission.

“German, isn’t it?  ‘Morning Song?’  I was right, the two of you already possess a synergy.  I eagerly await being able to ride with the Morning Sun, carried by the Morning Song,” he laughed, and took Lysander’s hand to bring him inside.  “Let us rest now, tomorrow will be a very long day, I imagine.”

He had just put the helmet on the table when Lysander set his down as well and grabbed _his_ hand and put an arm around his waist, giving him a rather smoky smile.  “You know, you’ll need to learn how to put this gear on.  Why don’t you get a feel for it by helping me take it off?  And if you keep going, well, you're just really thorough, aren't you?”

“Then I should start right now,” Elliott replied, licking his partner’s lips and undoing the collar, “because once I’m done with this lesson I intend to ensure that we get right to bed, even if we don’t end up getting much sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	47. Safety First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I was up WAY too late playing FF14, but then, I was making sick bank at the Gold Saucer, and almost have enough MGP to buy the last couple of items I want. Woo-hoo! Have a chapter, I'm debating whether to grab three hours of sleep, or a coffee and just stay up until 8pm tonight and crash out at a normal hour.
> 
> Also, while I was proofing this before posting, the cat brought in two mice. Two SEPARATE mice, within 45 minutes of each other. (Yes, I could tell.) I guess that that was his hint that it was time for breakfast.//

Gentle, teasing kisses woke Elliott from an unremarkable dream, but seeing as reality held a handsome and amorous man in his bed, he was quite happy to wake up.  “Good morning my dear, shouldn’t you be getting ready for your run?”

With a shrug and a flash of that warm smile, Lysander settled down on Elliott’s chest and played with a lock of his hair.  “Nah, we figured we could take a day off and sleep in a little so we would have enough time and energy to get out there early today.  We remember how wiped we both were after the Luau, so a day to ourselves won’t hurt.  Ready to get suited up?”

The prospect of being able to accompany his partner anywhere from now on was quite exciting, though still a little frightening.  However, the ride the night before had been pleasant, and it would be a long enough ride to the city that he’d be able to get comfortable with it, but not so long that he would begin to worry again or become uncomfortable.  He brought this up with Lysander, who shared the same opinions, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up and stretching.  Elliott watched him do so with relaxed satisfaction, which his partner noticed, and stretched again exaggeratedly for Elliott’s benefit.

“You like what you see?” he grinned, putting a hand on his hip and smirking down at Elliott.

“I find it to be simply captivating,” Elliott replied, “should I tire of such a vision I shall be tired of life itself.”

Laughing happily, Lysander sat down next to him and kissed him properly, the slight flush to his cheeks and glint in his eyes exactly the result that Elliott sought.  It was so easy to produce the effect that he desired, and he was almost hesitant to do it too often, lest it lose its effect.  Taking Elliott’s hand, Lysander stood once more and pulled him to his feet.

“C’mon, love, let’s get cleaned up and get on the road.”

 

An hour later they were outside, Lysander assisting Elliott with his helmet again before affixing his.  Elliott raised the faceplate as Lysander adjusted his helmet and did the same, doing one last check to ensure that his gear was snugly secured into place and that Elliott was also ready to ride.  Snapping shut the clasps on the sport backpack that Lysander had provided, he checked how it rested across his shoulders, ensuring that it wouldn’t become uncomfortable during the ride.

His checks complete, Lysander mounted _Morgenlied_ , turned over the engine, and grinned over his shoulder.  “All set.  Ready, love?”

With a little less confidence, but an equal amount of eagerness, Elliott got into place behind him and got comfortable, same as last time.  Arms around his partner, he took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to relax.  “Right, I’m ready to go, dear.  I hope I don’t give you any trouble.”

“You’ll be fine.  Trust me.”  He closed the visor and, once again the same as the night before, put the bike into gear and rode off into town.  As they had an errand to take care of before everyone else, they were leaving first.  Elliott almost asked him to stop, as he remembered that Abigail would need the spare helmet, but recalled last night that Lysander had mentioned dropping by Sebastian’s before he’d gone to the cabin, where he had likely dropped it off.  This removed the last of his tension and he smiled to himself.

_“Trust me.”  You have never given me a reason not to, therefore I put my life and safety in your hands.  How strange to have such a thought and find it to not only not be terrifying, but to actually be comforting.  My dearest, you have done more for me than I shall ever be able to express._

He left open the visor until they got onto the main road, enjoying the early-morning air, then shut it as they picked up speed.  Lysander drove at the same speed that they had gone the night before, giving Elliott the chance to get accustomed to it again, but as they turned onto the highway that lead into the city, he accelerated smoothly to the speed of traffic.  Fortunately, it was still early enough that they weren’t going to encounter morning traffic when everyone heads to work, which was a rather sizeable load off of Elliott’s mind; he trusted Lysander implicitly, everyone else, not so much.

Once he had gotten used to the speed of the highway, Elliott found it to be an exhilarating and interesting trip; so often had he driven or ridden in a car, but this, gods, this was a completely alien experience in comparison.  It was so free yet so perilous, and Elliott immediately appreciated the amount of concentration and confidence that Lysander possessed to control the motorcycle.  Somehow, this deepened his trust in his partner, and he watched the scenery and cars zip past with a newfound appreciation for enclosed, four-wheeled travel.

Despite Lysander’s careful handling and trying not to ride too quickly, Elliott was grateful to put both feet on the ground when they arrived at the shop, removing his helmet and taking a deep, welcome breath.  He smiled again as his partner also took off his helmet, kissed his cheek, and squeezed his hand.  Helmets tucked under the other arm, they walked into the store, hand in hand, and the receptionist giggled as she saw Lysander.

“You’re already a regular customer, aren’t you?  And _you’re_ the one with a friend this time.  Hi!  I’m May.”

Releasing Lysander’s hand, he offered a handshake to the receptionist.  “Elliott.  It’s been a curious few days, I admit.  We are, ah…”  He trailed off and looked to his partner for guidance, not sure what to ask for.

“Safety gear,” he supplied, inclining his head toward the area in question, “need to get him suited up to ride with me.”

A glance at the helmet told the entire story to May, and she flashed them both a grin and waved them on.  “Looks like you know what you need, then.  If you’ve got questions, I’m here, and James is out on the floor.  You can leave your items here if you want, I’ll keep an eye on them for you.”

“Nifty, thanks.”  Lysander turned to Elliott and asked for his help in removing the gear, as some of the snaps and closures were a little difficult to do alone.  This suddenly reminded Elliott of his partner’s request the night before and he almost was unable to avoid turning very red.  Clearly, Lysander remembered the same thing, but while his wink and smile would normally exacerbate this sort of situation, they actually reassured him.

A couple of minutes later Lysander stretched again (and once again Elliott tried not to remember that morning!) and led the way to the section of the store that stocked personal equipment and gear.  “I really should have tried to call ahead or something, ‘cause we’re both tall and hard to fit, but I’ve no idea what your size is so I don’t think they could order something ahead anyway.”  He shrugged and put a hand on his hip again.  “Well, what do you think would work for you?  I don’t know your style, which is also why I didn’t want to do anything sooner.”

Looking around at the options, Elliott tapped a finger to his chin as he walked around and examined the racks, and glanced over at Lysander.  “To be quite honest, I rather like what you wore.  At the risk of copying _your_ style, now that I have considered it, it looks as though it provides safety without sacrificing mobility.  Sebastian is certainly stylish in his preferred leather gear, but we are physically much different than he is.”

With a shrug, Lysander agreed, stepping back to look him up and down.  “I was thinking the same thing.  Well, let’s see if we can find your size, then, jacket first.”  Selecting blue and black to complement the red and black of his partner, Elliott shrugged into the lightweight mesh jacket, noticing reinforced plates in places where he might take serious injury if he fell.  A clever way to provide protection but reduce weight and provide breathability!  He zipped up the front and secured the wrist straps, then fastened the mandarin collar that protected his neck.

“Here, it’s loose in a couple of places, lemme snug that up for you,” Lysander offered, pulling on a couple of straps, “how’s it fit?  It should be close-fitting but not tight.”  He tugged at the bottom of the jacket, ensuring that it was the right length.  “Good, I’m surprised we were able to find this size in a ‘tall.’  Lucky us.  Think you’ll want to find the pants to go with?  I’m more concerned with getting you boots, though, as those shoes are _not_ made for riding.”

“If we can find trousers that fit then yes, by all means, but I understand the need for proper footwear, it was a concern of mine as well.”

Their luck held out, as matching pants were also found, in the same colors, and the only one in that size left.  They both shared the lament that being tall had few advantages and numerous disadvantages, something that people of “normal” heights never had to experience.  Sturdy riding boots were next, and though they felt strange, they were comfortable.  Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t worn his current style of shoes.  He had truly been in a rut of all sorts, hadn’t he?

Inquiring about the total cost so that he could pay for his gear, Elliott blinked in surprise when Lysander tapped him firmly on the nose and grinned.  “Nope, I’m covering it again, love.  You’re riding on _my_ bike, which means your safety is _my_ responsibility.”  The smile softened as he traced gentle fingers down Elliott’s chin.  “Besides, it’s kinda nice to be able to spend money on my boyfriend.  Let me treat you a little, okay?”  Sighing and conceding defeat, Elliott barely resisted the urge to kiss him, but Lysander felt no hesitation, and brushed his lips with a light kiss.  Then he remembered something, went over to a table, picked something up, and returned.  “Gloves,” he explained, “SO bloody important.  Get these on, see how they fit.  I’ll do one last check to make sure you’re all snapped together and secured.”

Fully dressed, Elliott felt rather invincible, despite knowing the reality of it all.  Still, he enjoyed the temporary mental comfort, and felt a swell of satisfaction as Lysander bit his lip and gave him a look of focused desire.  This was the last of what they had come to obtain, and Elliott was about to start taking it off when he realized that they were just going to be going out in a few minutes anyway.  Lysander and May concluded the financial portion of the transaction, and Lysander slipped the receipt into his pocket before Elliott could look at it, arching an eyebrow at him.  Getting used to the gear, Lysander dressed again, and picked up his helmet, gloves tucked inside, and left, once more holding Elliott’s hand.

“Lookin’ proper spiffy, love.  Feeling good about this?”

Flexing a gloved hand, Elliott examined himself as Lysander did one final check and nodded.  “I still feel comfortable yet protected.  It is not infallible, as while you are a skilled rider mistakes do happen, and other people are unpredictable, but we have eliminated a fair number of unpleasant variables.”  He picked up and put on the sport backpack again after having put his other shoes and a couple of other items in it, snapped shut the clasps across his chest, put on his helmet, and tugged on his gloves.  Lysander was already astride _Morgenlied_ , with his visor open and the engine rumbling.  Taking his now-accustomed place behind his partner, Elliott adjusted himself on the seat again, as the gear slightly changed his posture and position, and took a few more seconds to get his feet properly on the pegs.

Secure and comfortable, Elliott wrapped his arms around Lysander and relaxed into him, and this was the signal that he needed to leave, exiting the parking lot and turning back onto the road to their agreed-upon destination in Zuzu City to meet with their friends.  What an adventure his life was turning out to be!  Charles would be delighted to hear about all of this, and mother and father?  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see their faces.  He would have to arrange a visit one of these days.  They had expressed interest in meeting his partner, and knowing of the extent of their relationship, well, it was probably about time.  He smiled to himself and hugged the other rider, trying not to distract or disrupt him, but he felt him laugh, and knew that his affection had been appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	48. Business and Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I'm not sure what's going to go on with Friday's and Monday's updates, as I'm going out of town and have no idea how much time I'll have to write, and whether or not I'll have internet connectivity to post it. I'm off to [Miscon](http://www.miscon.org/) in Montana for the weekend, and I doubt I'll see any of you there, but hey, you never know. :P//

They had arrived quite a bit earlier than their companions, as their errand hadn’t taken quite as long as they’d expected, so they had a bit of time to themselves.  The park was lovely, and the day already shaping up to be sunny and warm, so Elliott was quite looking forward to some time on the town, so to speak.  He ran his fingers slowly across _Morgenlied’s_ frame, examining the machine with interested scrutiny.

“So, how _does_ one operate this vehicle?” he asked, “I know how to drive, and a manual no less, so I am curious to know if this operates upon similar principles.”

With a grin of delight, Lysander set their helmets and the backpack to the side, instructing him to sit astride it as he normally did, and proceeded to give him a quick run-down of how to ride.  It wasn’t that difficult, once the basics had been explained, it was simply a matter of practice.  And confidence.  For the most part, the bike would right itself (due to gyroscopic forces and the like) once in motion, so unless something went _really_ wrong, all one had to do was pretty much point it in the direction that they wanted to go and give it a bit of throttle.

The casual lesson lasted until everyone pulled up at the same time, with Alex, Haley, and Sam in the truck, and Abigail riding behind Sebastian on his motorcycle.  Their matching attire produced no small amount of good-natured ribbing from their friends, which Lysander riposted with his usual sass.  Sam had a one-track mind, and immediately brought up the topic of scouting out the location of their first performance.

“Hey, you mentioned before that your dad plays around here somewhere.  Do you think you might be able to get us a spot there?”  Lysander confirmed this, and added that he’d called his father earlier, but was still waiting on a response, and expressed doubts that there’d be room enough for a proper audience.  Shrugging, Sam seemed unperturbed.  “Well, we may be here for business, but I also wanna just hang out.  It’s been ages since I got out of town for a bit and I want to wander around for a while, too.”

Everyone was of the same mindset, and agreed on a time to meet up again as Lysander and Elliott removed their riding gear and stashed it in Alex’s truck.  Elliott put his usual shoes back on, flexing his feet a couple of times as he got used to them again.  He had considered wearing his boots the rest of the day, but didn’t want to risk injury or blisters from breaking in a new pair of shoes.  Lysander took his hand and tugged gently as Elliott picked up the backpack again, walking off together in a different direction than their friends.

Elliott squeezed his partner’s hand, noticing the look on his face.  “You’re worried about running into your old colleagues, aren’t you?”

With a shrug, Lysander smiled, though his heart wasn’t in it, and remarked that he was, but at this time of day and week it was unlikely that he’d encounter them, and he’d changed enough that they weren’t likely to recognize him.  Elliott doubted this, that there were few who bore the distinctive features and personality that he did.

“Yeah, that’s kinda true, but…” he replied, sighing and shaking his head, “I’m not going to worry about it.  I’m going to have a good time today with you and that’s what matters.  Although,” he paused to tap a finger to his chin, I did have one thing I wanted to do really quick in this area.”  Elliott also had an errand nearby, as he wanted to add a few more books to his collection now that he had the opportunity.  Lysander’s smile was warm and supportive.  “You’re anticipating being able to find your own work there soon, yeah?”

Feeling a sudden flutter of butterflies, Elliott enjoyed the warm flush it produced, thinking of their success, and hugged his partner, trying to share it.  “Correct.  It is almost difficult to properly comprehend it, that I have finally achieved my dream for which I have worked for so long without success.  I very nearly fell into depression due to my continual failure.  I could not have done it without you.  It is now my turn to ensure that you accomplish what it is you seek to do.”

Lysander agreed with his statement, and offered to meet up again in roughly half an hour.  This was satisfactory, as though Elliott wanted to browse a little, he didn’t think he’d take too terribly long.  Allowing their fingers to linger just a little longer as they walked away, Elliott smiled as he walked into the bookstore.  Ah!  That warm, rich scent of paper, leather, and wood.  He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he walked in, and stepped to the side to close his eyes and just take in the old, familiar sensation.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, politely waving off an employee who asked if he needed assistance.  Perhaps in a little bit, but for the moment, he wanted to simply _be_.  Looking around, he made off in the direction he guessed would carry the books he wanted, and glanced at various tables, imagining seeing his- no, _their_ book there.  He felt a small twinge of embarrassment when he recalled the accidental insinuation of being more than just companions, borrowing his partner’s name like that.  And yet it felt and sounded right.  It was _far_ too soon to consider anything permanent, of course, but it still was a possibility…

Shaking his head, he tried to dislodge this thought.  They hadn’t known each other _that_ long yet.  There was still so much to learn, so many things that they needed to do first.  He realized that he was staring at the cover of the book in his hands, not realizing that he’d zoned out.  With a deep breath, he tucked those thoughts away to deal with at a later date and put down the book, finding the one he was looking for.  He wandered a little to find the other book he wanted and went to the counter to pay for his purchases.

“Hi, are you ready?” asked the woman behind the counter, and Elliott nodded as he set down his items.

“I am.  I have recently begun reading this author’s works and am somewhat behind in the series.”

She scanned the two books and put them in a bag, took his card, scanned it, and returned it.  “They’ve been around a little while, I think these are what, books five and six?  Oh, that reminds me, we’re getting another couple of authors in soon.  Well, one book, two authors collaborated on it.”

Elliott’s pulse skipped a beat at this mention and managed to maintain a straight face.  “Really?  Who are they?”

She frowned as she handed over his bag.  “I’m not sure, to be honest, they’re supposed to be sorta local, which is pretty cool, and one of them shares your name,” she replied, glancing at the computer screen, “which I guess is pretty cool, too.”

Almost unable to keep his composure, Elliott shrugged and smiled pleasantly.  “Then it will be easy enough to find them.  I’ll have to return next month and keep an eye out for it.  Thank you!”  He unshouldered the backpack and secured the books inside, slinging it back over his shoulder as Lysander walked up, holding two cups of coffee.  The copper-haired man smiled and offered one, which Elliott took gratefully.  Thanking him, Elliott took a sip, then paused, looking at him with greater scrutiny.  Something was a little different, but he couldn’t put his fingers on something.  Sipping his own drink, Lysander gave him a curious look himself.

Then it struck him, and Elliott laughed with delight.  “You cheeky, sneaky thing,” he remarked, taking a better look and appreciating Lysander’s new addition, “perhaps Sebastian is correct, you _are_ taking this ‘cute couple’ thing a bit far.”

Lysander now wore earrings, a pair of gold studs, and they looked quite good against his hair and skin tone.  Strangely, his appearance looked more “complete” now, and he ran a thumb over one of them, returning Elliott’s smile.  “Nothing gets by you, does it?  But even though it was a cover-my-ass line I threw out there when we met, I was serious that I had been considering earrings for some time.  So I figured that while we’re in the city I could get that done and check another thing off of my list.”  Elliott offered the opinion that Lysander seemed to be on a personal mission to distance himself from what he used to be, earning another shrug.  He averred that it wasn’t quite that drastic, simply that he wanted to be more than he used to be.  “Now I’ve got a path and ideas, and while I don’t have a dream yet, I don’t mind.  There’s things I want to do, and that’s good enough for right now.  Also you’ll notice I did studs.”

Smiling at his partner’s mischievous giggle, Elliott sighed.  “I noticed.”  When his partner’s smile grew wider and cheekier as he very gleefully pointed out that he wore studs because Elliott wore loops, the blonde man stepped in to kiss him, sharing his amusement but still feeling the need to distract him from that train of thought.  Almost as soon as he had done so, he stepped back and glanced about, feeling embarrassed, but relaxed when Lysander gave him that warm, supportive smile that always made things better.

“Don’t worry love,” he said, squeezing his hand, “it’s a big enough city that nobody’s going to give us trouble about it.  Besides, it’s not like we’re making out or anything.  Be yourself.”  The cheerful smile returned as he led them both off in a particular direction, as he had a few places he wanted to investigate as possible performance venues.  Though they took a direct route, they were in no hurry, and enjoyed the coffee, the weather, and each other’s company.  The weather held out, being sunny and warm but without the heat of summer.  Lysander took several fliers and cards that contained information about using particular venues, tucking them into the backpack, but didn’t seem hopeful that any of them would be what they were looking for.

Scrutinizing one last flier, Lysander sighed and put it with the others, and discarded their empty cups.  “I think we’ve got a lot of options here, and we should be able to cover the cost of our choice, but it occurs to me that we’ve not done anything to put out our name so far, so even if we do get a gig we won’t have much of an audience.”  Elliott considered this silently, then nodded and agreed, that while they still had some lingering interest from the Luau, they’d not done anything more since then, and Lysander was next to nod.  “Today was definitely great in that we got some good recon done, but before we make any plans to perform we need to solidify our ‘image’ and start advertising.  I’ll work with Haley on that; she’s been doing a great job of documenting us so far, so we just need to start using that to our advantage.  Still, it’s been great to get out and about.”  This produced a quick chain of thoughts, and he gave Elliott that smile that always left him feeling melty and weak.  “Hey, you know, this is technically our first ‘date,’ isn’t it?”

“For most social definitions of it, I suppose it is,” Elliott replied, having thought about it himself, “we have spent a lot of time together, but not in the traditional sense of ‘dating.’”  This pleased his companion for some reason that he couldn’t quite articulate, and Elliott seconded the statement.  “Like my writing endeavors, I was unsuccessful in cultivating long-term relationships.  You have been my only companion of more than a couple of months.”

With a cheeky wink, Lysander nudged him.  “Well, you’re not _completely_ inexperienced, as you’ve surprised me in knowing how to do a few things I hadn’t expected of you.”

“I-  That’s-“ Elliott began, but let the thought go when Lysander put an arm around his waist, that warm smile returning.

“I’m just giving you grief, love, don’t take it seriously.  And rather, I’m glad you’ve had some experience of _some_ sort.  It wouldn’t be healthy otherwise for someone of your age, regardless of your status.”  Feeling his cheeks grow hot, Elliott asked if they could talk about that subject away from potentially prying ears and eyes.  Lysander apologized, but amended it with the opinion that Elliott was cute when flustered and he liked that.  Then he looked around as he noticed where their aimless wanderings had taken them.  “Oh, hey, we’re at the theater.  I haven’t been in here in so long, let’s have a look around.  This is probably the closest I have to a second home.”  He remembered Elliott’s name and chuckled.  “That’s right, your family…”

Elliott had been here so many times himself, but only as a member of the audience or when meeting with his parents and brother for business.  He’d never been on-stage the way that Lysander had, and suddenly he wanted to experience it for himself, not only to better understand his partner, but to gain a better appreciation for theater and what it meant.  Gently taking Lysander’s hand, he asked for his partner to show him around, to show what it was like for him.  Lysander’s face lit up with joy and he tugged at his hand.

Oh gods, that smile, he had so many of them, and they all did wonderful, different things to him, but this one was the one that belonged to Elliott and no other.  The smile that would always bring him happiness and contentment, even just the thought of it.  They walked in, and Elliott followed his partner back stage, and into another world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	49. Testing One's Worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Whee! That was an amazing weekend. Lots of pictures, so many stories, all kinds of great stuff. I attended a few writers' panels, too, and got a LOT of good information. I might actually have what it takes to be an actual author, imagine that. Though I don't have much time to catch my breath, as I'm out of town this weekend again. Updates should happen normally, though, I won't be quite as busy and will have a little more down-time to myself. The big question is if the damn wifi will be functional or if I'll have to wander off and find a Starbucks or something.//

Elliott couldn’t recall Lysander being so enthusiastic before.  True, he had always been energetic and passionate about many things that they’d shared in the past, but this, this was special to him.  They wound their way around the rooms and halls where Lysander pointed out objects and locations of interest, relating stories and anecdotes.  Listening with rapt, fascinated attention, Elliott followed, not losing hold of his hand for a moment.  He didn’t think his partner had ever looked more handsome or alive.  Glancing into the dressing room, Lysander giggled and explained a few make-up techniques unique to theater that one wouldn’t usually use in daily life, which Elliott found to be most intriguing, and it also explained how he’d achieved the “female” appearance from that picture that Lysander had shown him a couple of months back.

The tour of the back rooms concluded, Lysander took him behind the scenes directly, describing how and what the different ropes, pulleys, levers and so many other mechanisms operated.  There wasn’t a way for them to access the room that controlled the lighting, but Lysander promised to show him that one day, and Elliott almost laughed; it was _his_ family that owned this place, but it was Lysander who treated it as if _he_ did!  But then, after all that he had done there, he almost did.  For Elliott, this had simply been a business and a place of occasional entertainment.  For Lysander, this was _home_.

Finally releasing Elliott’s hand, Lysander strode confidently out onto the stage itself, and his smile of absolute delight was completely infectious.  “I missed this, love,” he remarked, sweeping the empty seats with an almost hungry stare, “it’s not been long, but it’s actually hurt to be away.  It’s not that I missed the attention, it’s the joy and experiences that I give to people.”  His smile softened and he wrapped his arms around himself, recalling past performances.  “I live for that; telling a story and making people think and feel something amazing.  I’ve missed performing with dad and his group, even for small venues, because of the camaraderie and synchronicity you get with your fellow performers.  I wish I could explain it all, but I don’t have the words.  I’m a performer, not a composer.”

_My dearest, you have no idea just how wrong you are and how happy I am for that.  Our novel is your creation as well.  It is I who do not have the words for it, for I have not had your experience in immersing one’s self in another world.  I was the sculptor of our story, you gave it life._

He met his partner in the middle of the stage, pulling him into a determined hug, and Lysander snuggled into it with a smile.  Running his fingers through his partner’s hair, Elliott assured him that what he _had_ said, and how, was more than enough to describe it.  “I already feel the love and respect you have for these media, and if it is within my power I will assist you in standing out here once more.”

Head on Elliott’s shoulder, Lysander considered this for a moment, then smiled and chuckled.  “That’s not necessary, love.  I won’t ask you to pull strings with your family, that feels wrong.  Though if I could just do one last show I could walk away and be content.”

Laughing happily and tapping the tip of Elliott’s nose, he brought up the prospect of their book being adapted for the theater, with them as their own characters, which made the blonde man laugh thoughtfully in return.  Elliott found the idea interesting, but only that, as it was unlikely that it could be done, and that he completely lacked the ability to act, even alongside Lysander.  With a confident smirk, the actor replied much in the same way that Elliott had thought only moments earlier, that he had plenty of skill that just needed practice.

“Anyway, it is just a bit of a silly dream,” he sighed, sparing one last glance into the darkened room, “I’m just happy that you’ve gotten this far.  Though, who knows, it’s a strange world.  I guess  that’ll be my dream for the moment; to be able to stand up here in any form, just one last time.”

Before Elliott could reassure him or offer an idea, he heard a very familiar voice address them from the opposite end of the stage.  “Who is there?  Who dares trespass here?”

Lysander broke from Elliott’s hug to see who it was, and Elliott blinked in surprise.  His mother was here?  Again, Elliott didn’t have the time to say anything, as Lysander took it upon himself to reply first.  “I can’t trespass in my own home, and how do I know you’re allowed to be here, too?”

“Because I own this place,” she replied in a clipped, dignified tone.

Oh, this was _not_ going to go well; Elliott saw that his partner’s proverbial feathers had been ruffled, and the slight edge to his voice wasn’t quite antagonistic, but he was certain that his mother also wasn’t in the mood for mischief.  It was up to him to try to intercede and keep this from blowing up horribly.

“Hello, mother, I did not expect to see you here,” he greeted, feeling his stomach begin to hatch a small swarm of butterflies.  This was beginning to feel like the day that he’d called her to inform her of his relationship with Lysander, and he wasn’t certain that _this_ encounter would end very well.  Her manner of dress caught him off-guard, too, as the simple violet dress and bolero jacket were definitely meant for a nice night out, in addition to the matching clutch purse and low heels.  She eyed Lysander with the scrutinizing glare that Elliott had so often seen reduce the arrogant to the meek in just seconds.

“I must say the same,” she replied, nodding at her son, “hello, Elliott, it is good to see you again.  And you must be Lysander.  You call this your home?  What audacity breeds this sort of assumption?”

_Oh no, gods no, this is going to go so very, very wrong!_

Elliott unconsciously held his breath, feeling panic well up as he saw his partner’s eyes narrow as he felt his pride and honor being called into question.  “Because I have spent many hours upon this stage, entertaining and delighting the guests that provide your income,” he growled, “so while you may own it, you also owe _me_.”

“Dear!  Please don’t-“

He was interrupted by his mother’s gesture to be patient, though she never broke eye contact with the ginger nuisance.  “It’s quite all right, Elliott, he does have a point of a sort, though he lacks tact in expressing it.  A theater without performers is merely an expensive and pointless form of interior decorating.”  The ghost of a smile had appeared for a moment, and only Elliott could see it, but it disappeared again as she continued.  “However, it is no small amount of arrogance to assume that your name and presence are what command and demand an audience.”  This was going as badly as Elliott had feared, as he saw his partner grit his teeth and snarl.  She had hit him right where it hurt, and he was barely holding back from snapping at her.

“I never said that, and further, I never performed for my own sake.  To do so would be to sully the art of theater.  I stand upon this stage and revel in applause, yes, but not for the attention; it is because that is proof of myself, of my performance, of the story that I have told.  It is thanks for the entertainment that I have provided and skill that I have demonstrated.”  He was in his element here, and Elliott momentarily forgot his worry as Lysander’s performing nature asserted itself.  “My songs, my stories, my voice, they are all given freely to any who ask and I ask nothing in return.  That is the soul of an artist, and while it may not bring prestige or wealth those are mere material concerns that get in the way of and diminish my art.  You may speak ill of many things about me, and they will likely be true, but I will not tolerate a slight against that which I have devoted most of my life.”

Elliott was somehow caught between not breathing and hyperventilating.  This was somehow worse than the phone call!  However, his fears were put to rest by her intrigued, almost amused look.  “How _very_ curious.  You are quite the interesting young man.  You have also been a positive influence upon Elliott.”  As though she had made a very careful decision, she nodded with satisfaction.  “Very well, I approve.  You may call me Elizabeth.”  Elliott almost felt his knees buckle under him with relief, but he tensed again at the smirk that Lysander immediately sprouted, which his mother noticed.  “No, you may not call me ‘Liz.’  Nor ‘Beth.’”  Almost in proportion to the cold glare she gave him, his smile was threatening to leave the confines of his face.  “And should the name ‘Lizzy’ ever attempt to cross your lips your future vocal career will be as a soprano.  Are we understood?”

Ever cheeky, Lysander pushed his luck just a bit further, asking if “mom” was acceptable, or if “mother” was more preferable, and Elliott put his face in his hands with a silent groan.  His breath caught in his throat when she told his partner in a very firm voice that he was to use neither of those terms until he had married her son.  “Which brings me to my next point,” she continued, not paying attention to Elliott’s open-mouthed stare of shock, “my eldest has already taken on the responsibility of carrying on the family name.  Do you plan to have Elliott do the same, or is yours the one that shall take precedence?”

_Marriage?  Mother!  We haven’t been together nearly long enough for that!_ he thought to himself, then interrupted that thought with another, very surprised one: _half a moment, she was the one who brought up the possibility, and did so with all seriousness.  She actually thinks that well of him?_

Lysander either didn’t comprehend the gravitas of the moment, or didn’t care, because he shifted his weight to one leg and laced his fingers behind his head, thinking about her question with a look of pure insolence.  “Well, personally, I think that ‘Elliott von Morgensonne’ sounds quite nice, but that’s just me.”

Heart skipping a beat, Elliott felt the flock of butterflies finally hatch and take flight.  He was of the same opinion, but it had only been suggested in jest previously.  His mother, however, seemed well-acquainted with the name.  “Von…  I thought that I recognized that infuriating smile,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, examining him more closely, “you are the son of Arthur and Lynn von Morgensonne, are you not?”

Both men were surprised by her casual admission of knowing his name and parentage, but Lysander was faster to recover, remembering aloud that since both of his parents taught music and dance, they had done considerable work at the theater as well.  “I keep forgetting just how much influence they have around here.  It’s funny what you get used to when you’re so close to it for so long.”

A little relieved by the neutral resolution to the near-argument, Elliott was about to add his own opinion when he heard his father walk up.  The older man commented that Lysander had apparently been performing at the theater for a while, which he gleaned from something on his smartphone.  Elliott wanted to ask how he knew, but then remembered that he had told Charles some time ago that Lysander had been a part of the Grand Company Players, which had then been passed on to their parents, and now that his father had a full name, he could search their database for information on him.  Elliott did comment, though, that he had been wondering if he was also present, given his mother’s attire, and the dark tan suit and light blue shirt were evidence of the precursor to a night out together.

“Good afternoon, Elliott,” he replied, putting a welcome hand on his son’s shoulder and giving him a warm smile, “I see that you are doing well, and that you are apparently romantically involved with a performer that has been a part of this theater for a number of years.”  He turned his attention to the copper-haired man, who had been watching them with interest.  “I see no leading roles on your dossier, Lysander, all of them are support or background characters.  Intriguing.  One might take that to infer that you are shy or lack confidence, but your, hmm,” he paused again to search for the right word, “’conversation’ with my wife speaks otherwise.  It appears that your love for both theater and my son are genuine.”  The fatherly smile now extended to him as well, and he offered a hand in greeting, which Lysander took.  “I am Phillip, and I will head your question off at the pass and inform you that no, you are not allowed to call me ‘Phil.’”

Laughing, Lysander gave Elliott a fond smile of his own.  “I like your parents so much, love, nobody has been able to out-cheek me like this in a long time.”

Putting fingers to his temple to rub away an impending headache, Elliott wasn’t quite as relaxed as his partner, but did feel good enough to politely tease him to not antagonize his future in-laws any further.  The headache dissipated, and so did any lingering concerns, when Elliott’s mother finally smiled as well, understanding his thoughts.  “Do not worry, we all were testing each other, and it seems that we have all passed.  Now that initial introductions and impressions have been made, we can move on to business.”  Her commanding presence reasserted itself, and she took in both men with the same firm, professional stare.  “When we last spoke you mentioned that your book was completed and had been submitted for publishing.  Has there been any further development on that front?”

Elliott confirmed this, and gave details on when and where it would be available, promising to inform them as soon as it was ready.  Phillip made notes on his phone and nodded in confirmation.  “That would be excellent.  You have been laboring over this endeavor for many years now.  I am delighted to hear that you have achieved the success that you have desired.”  He brought up the question of whether or not Elliott had used a pen name, remembering that his son had wanted to avoid association with his family name until he could prove his worth on his own first.

Without a quick reply initially, Elliott hesitated.  “Ah, I did not.  Nor did I use my name.  To be honest, Lysander has writing credit as well for the amount of work that he put into it with me, so we…”

He felt embarrassed to admit their “error” in their authorship, and wasn’t sure how to phrase it in order to avoid awkward questions.  None came, however, as his parents shared an entire conversation in one understanding glance, and Phillip took out his phone again while Elizabeth silently considered something.  He remarked that using Lysander’s name would not only make it a simple task to find, but also deal with the legal issue of rights to an adaptation, since strange questions would be asked if Elliott had used his own name.  He also assured them that it all would be handled gracefully and legally, and that they would be afforded all of the proper credit and monetary compensation that this sort of thing required.

With twin expressions of amazed surprise, they listened as Elizabeth outlined the loose schedule for an adaptation and release, and after listing the back-of-the-napkin estimates on how long some things would take, suggested an opening night some time the next autumn.  “We can work out particulars once it is published and I have had the opportunity to read it,” she concluded, as if it were already a signed contract.

Elliott was familiar with her rapid decision-making process, but Lysander was baffled.  “I-  Wait, are the both of you really talking about adapting his novel for the stage?  Already?  You don’t even know what it’s about!”

Looking over the rim of his silver spectacles (that somewhat resembled his own, Elliott noticed) at Lysander, Phillip replied that _both_ of them had written it, so it was _their_ work, actually, and that even though one could always count on certain stories to always pull in an audience, new stories were crucial to catching public interest and keeping people returning.  “It can be a risky maneuver,” he admitted, “but such is the nature of things.  And no, we do not know the content nor the nature of your novel, so it is potentially likely that it is rubbish.”  Elliott felt a quick stab of annoyed insult at this, but liked it, as for once he had something he could be proud of!  “However, knowing the exacting standards to which Elliott holds himself, as well as the love of storytelling and the stage that you have already displayed, we are confident that the subject matter will be appealing.”

Any irritation from the perceived insult was immediately wiped away with that last statement, and Elliott felt a surge of pride, elated that he had finally done something of which his family could be proud!  Elizabeth cut short any further discussion, having noticed the time.  The two of them had come to the theater on business and that meeting was coming up shortly.  She did, though, express her delight in being able to encounter both her son and his partner, and accepted a hug from Elliott when he reaffirmed his promise to make sure that they had one of the first copies of their book.

“I appreciate that,” she said, and turned to Lysander.  “As for you, I suppose that it is not premature to welcome you to the family already.  Though it is probably for the best that you are both men, as I am certain that your children would be simply unruly.”  Elliott was also used to her somewhat dry sense of humor, but Lysander was likely still feeling a little bothered from their earlier chat, and let his temper take charge for a moment.

“What-  Hey now!  Just remember that you’d be the grandmother so we’d pawn them off on you when they’re being little shits because it’s your job to spoil them.  So _there_.”

Gratefully, Elizabeth thought that this was hilarious, and accepted the hug from her potentially future son-in-law.  Phillip did the same for both men, though he asked Elliott with a bit of concern about his glasses.  “Have you really been spending that much time behind a screen?”  Elliott replied that no, these were preventative, not reactive, and that they had been Lysander’s idea.  The gentle, warm smile reasserted itself, the smile of a father who could not be more proud of his progeny.  “Then he _has_ been quite a good influence.  You have always let your health go when focused upon something.  Perhaps a companion was what you lacked, not vision or skill.”

Polite goodbyes were made, and both couples parted ways; the elder to some other part of the theater, and the younger outside to reconvene with their friends.  This had been as nerve-wracking for Elliott as the phone call had been, but like that call, it had ended better than he could have expected.  Once again, hand-in-hand, they walked, and Elliott almost felt as though he were flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	50. Resonant Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //The downside to conventions is, inevitably, one always gets sick. *Sigh...*//

There had been a few things that Elliott had wanted to bring up with his parents, but running into them unexpectedly like that, as well as Lysander’s first meeting with them, had completely dashed those items from his mind.  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought about it; Lysander and his mother had put him in mind of a pair of strange cats sniffing each other, then hissing, then swatting with claws put away, then composure grooming before deciding that the other was all right after all.  His musings were interrupted when Lysander realized openly that Elliott’s mother had outright stated that she expected them to get married, which was something that he’d not expected.

“My parents are refreshingly direct and blunt,” Elliott replied, squeezing his partner’s hand, “they prefer not to leave things to ambiguity and chance.  But yes, you are correct, and it was an unexpected statement for me as well.  They have taken a liking to you, dear, something that has weighed upon my mind for some time.”

With chuckle, Lysander squeezed back.  “That’s the second time someone’s inferred that we’re going to get hitched at some point.  It feels…weird.”  Elliott pulled him closer to kiss the top of his head and smirk, amused at his partner’s consternation, and asked if he was averse to the idea of no longer being a bachelor with his pick of lovers.  “No, it’s…” Lysander replied, wrinkling his nose as he thought, “don’t take it the wrong way, love, but I never gave the matter any thought, ever, because I never really thought it would happen.”

He sighed and gently body-checked Elliott in a sort of walking hug, trying to explain what he thought.  “In college I was always busy and focusing on my education, and as basically the campus bicycle it didn’t seem likely that anyone would be interested in anything more than a few months of fun.  After I…”  He was almost unable to continue this thought, biting his lip and squeezing Elliott’s hand again.  “After that fight with Allen and everything that happened, I gave up on the idea of long-term love.  I didn’t think I deserved it, and to be honest, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to get the chance to try.  Even after meeting you, I was still stuck in a bit of depression, and…”

Elliott kept walking for a few more steps before he realized that Lysander had stopped, his grip on his hand tighter than before.  His partner was trying to blink away tears, rather unsuccessfully.  With gentle fingers, Elliott brushed them away, a comforting hand on his shoulder, asking him to speak his mind.  “Share your pain so that I may carry some of your burden.”

A glance at one of the white marks on a wrist brought an involuntary shudder.  “For the first couple of months in town I still hadn’t gotten over everything.  I was doing a good job of locking it away and keeping it from everyone else, and I wasn’t going to try again, but…  But if something _were_ to happen I wasn’t going to fight it.”

This statement sent a cold jolt of fear through Elliott, as he remembered their conversation in bed after their fight when Lysander openly admitted that he had considered trying again.  He offered a warm, supportive hug that Lysander gratefully leaned into, sniffing back further tears.  “I didn’t think I had a future or a purpose, and if I disappeared it’s not like it’d be a big loss.  I’m over it now.  Mostly.  Still working through a couple of things, but I’m no longer in that state.  Still, it’s just weird to me, I never thought I was the marrying type.  Never thought I’d be able to make someone properly happy.”

Finding the opportunity to tease but uplift, Elliott affirmed his remark, and when Lysander gave him a strange look and asked what he’d meant, he smiled and brushed aside the copper-red bangs to kiss him on the forehead.  “You have made me feel both delight and contentment.  By day I cherish your smile, by night I desire your touch.  You have given me more than mere happiness, and I am now devoted to repaying that gift.”

Lysander’s look of delighted relief almost completely melted Elliott, and this time his enthusiastic kiss was welcomed and returned by the author.

_My dearest, one day I will get you to understand your worth, to realize just how valuable you are to not only me, but to so many others.  You are the “marrying type,” because otherwise others would not have suggested it, and because the idea already fills me with such joy…_

 

They returned to the park where they had all met up that morning, and the only one that arrived after them was Sam, but Lysander and Elliott were the only ones that could have been called “successful” in their hunt for a locale for their first performance.  It had been a lovely day for everyone, however, so it hadn’t been wasted in any sense, but they were still no closer to their overall goal.  As they compared notes and commented on what they had done and where they had gone, Lysander’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket, noticing that it was from his father.

“Hey dad, how goes it?” he answered, leaning against Alex’s truck as he talked, “sweet, thanks!  Any idea on timeframe?  Brilliant!  We’re all here, actually, gimmie a sec to bounce it off of everyone.”  He pulled the phone away from his ear to give everyone his cheekiest grin and ask if anyone was busy in the next two or three weeks.  The response was positive from everyone, eliciting gasps, hugs, and laughter.  “Yeah, I think everyone’s cool with that.  No worries, that’s-  Wait, what?  No, that’s ‘wait, what’ as in did you mean ‘Elizabeth and Phillip?’”  The mention of his parents’ names made Elliott’s ears perk up, and he tried to listen in while Lysander’s expression became one of amused surprise.  “Actually, I _just_ met them a bit ago.  They’re Elliott’s parents.”

Lysander pulled the phone away from his ear again, this time because his father was laughing loudly enough that everyone could hear him, and winced at a statement that Elliott didn’t catch.  “Please don’t terrorize my potential in-laws, I barely made a good enough impression as it is.  Well, she did say that she ‘recognized that infuriating smile,’ and stated that I had a ‘vexing personality.’”  He huffed a chuckle and squeezed Elliott in a hug, his arm around his waist as his father said something else.  “I was already warned in no uncertain terms about doing that.  Will do, see you then.”

Their friends were extremely curious about not only the contents of the call, but what they had been doing, and Sebastian was of the opinion that they’d had quite the interesting day.  Lysander shrugged and smiled in reply.  “Um, the long and short of it is that we ran into Elliott’s parents when we stopped by the theater for old time’s sake, and apparently my parents are meeting them on business right now.  So I’m not sure if I’m annoyed that I missed the chance to say hi, or am glad that I’m not at potential Ground Zero for shenanigans.”  He checked his phone when it chirped with a text notification and groaned.  Elliott smiled at the simple message of “LOL!!! :D” while Lysander shook his head.  “Oh great, and now mom knows.  Let’s get geared up and head on home.  By the time we get back they should be done and I’ll get to find out of one ends up getting disowned or forbidden from dating.”

 

Once again, their timing was excellent, as they had left after evening traffic had dissipated, so the roads were clear enough for them to enjoy the ride and not worry about other drivers being idiots.  Elliott was glad for the riding gear, not just for its safety, but that it blocked the wind.  It wasn’t cold out yet, but at the speeds they were riding there was just a bit of a bite to the breeze.  He watched the sun set as they rode, something that he’d not done in a very long time.  There was a strange tranquility to this mode of transportation, and it put him in an introspective mood.  Just as the last rays of light faded away they arrived at the bus stop, and Elliott sighed with relief as Lysander slowed and turned onto the road that was so very familiar now.  They pulled up at the house, parking between it and the storage shed.  Elliott dismounted first, but waited for Lysander to walk up to and unlock the house, as he still didn’t know where the lights were, and removed his gear while his partner checked his phone.

“Nifty, dad got me the info.  Gimmie a sec to send this off and we can get out of this gear.”  Once done with that task, he unsnapped his collar and opened the closet.  “Here, I’ve got a few spare hangers in the closet by the door, we can hang up the gear in there, though you’ll probably want to keep yours handy when you head home, won’t you?”  Elliott affirmed this statement, but as he was staying there that night, he would store his gear with his partner’s.  “Well, it’s not that late,” Lysander remarked as he took off his boots, “and I’ve still got some energy.  I thought that I could show you something really nice…”

Elliott noticed the playful sound in his voice and smiled.  “Your smile is both flirty and mischievous.  You hint at activities of an adult nature, as well as an ulterior motive.”  In reply, the grin became wide with anticipation, and he handed him a guitar case that Elliott hadn’t seen in a while and instructed him to go to the couch while he retrieved Resonance from the other room.  “Is this Harmony?  So you propose to instruct me tonight?”

Returning from the bedroom, Lysander put the much more familiar case on the floor.  “Yeah, you taught me piano, I should return the favor.  Why, not interested?” he teased, as Elliott put Harmony’s case on the table and opened it.  He had been interested for some time, but they had been somewhat busy.  “Well, we’ve been _getting busy_ , so you’re partially right.”  When Elliott tried to protest, he kissed him and sat next to him.  “Smile, love, I say stuff like that because I’m trying to get a rise out of you.  Now, first, stat with posture.”

Elliott was pliant as Lysander pushed and prodded him into the right position, putting his hands and fingers where they needed to go, pointing out how and where everything went, and things to avoid doing.  He sat forward on the edge of the edge of the couch with his back straight, similar to how he’d been taught to sit at the piano.  “Hold it like this, don’t kink your left wrist too far, and hold the instrument into you with your right.  Feel that?  It should be an extension of yourself.”  Nodding, Elliott tried to commit the current position to physical memory while Lysander got up to sit behind him, as he wasn’t very good with teaching opposite him.

“I wonder if this is less of an assistance to your teaching and more of an opportunity to be affectionate,” Elliott mused with a smile, and Lysander confirmed that there was a little bit of an ulterior motive to it as he nibbled his ear and removed the pick out of the frets.  “Later, dear, there will be plenty of time for that tonight.”

Amused by his partner’s confidence, he returned to his instructions.  “Well, here’s the basics; it’s six strings, from the lowest to the highest they are E, A, D, G, B, and E.”  Elliott picked at  each of them as shown and listened to the sound each one made.  “Hear them?  Right.  The gaps in between the raised bars are frets, and they are all a half step each, twelve per string.  Let’s try a basic scale on the lowest string.”

Lysander tucked the pick into his own hand, as he would teach him to use that later, and showed him how to pluck the strings correctly.  It took a couple of tries to get the feel for it, but already Elliott felt himself becoming comfortable with the action.  Taking the fingers of Elliott’s left hand, he put them into position on the frets, using the very tips to depress the string.  This required more pressure than the author was expecting, and he adjusted his grip to hold the neck a bit more firmly so that he could hold down the string.

“There, you got it,” Lysander praised as Elliott successfully held down the string long enough to pluck it with his other hand, producing a note.

“I believe that I will need to develop not only greater hand strength but a few calluses in order to properly play this instrument,” Elliott observed, but Lysander encouraged him again, his smile warm and enthusiastic.

“Next is fourth,” he continued, referring to the next note in the progression, “good, now fifth-  No, not six,” he corrected, “five, there.  Seven, nine, eleven, twelve.  Nice!  Back down now.”  He repeated his instructions in reverse, correcting the second note when Elliott strummed a full step instead of a half one, but praising when he remembered the oft-missed half-step near the end.  “There you go, E major scale.  You’ve already learned something!”

Surprised at how quickly the lesson had progressed and he had picked up on it, Elliott was silent for a moment as he processed it.  “I…  I have,” he replied, feeling a swell of satisfaction, “and I can already feel the instrument, how it sings when pressed against you.  I now know why you called yours ‘Resonance.’”  Lysander agreed, but replied that it required a more complex sort of piece to really notice it.  “Could you show me?”  Elliott asked, “you’ve played a number of songs in my presence but I do not recall anything that would take an abundance of skill.”

That smile!  Elliott almost tingled with anticipation and warmth from it, and let him shift his hands to a place where he could feel the instrument but not be in the way.  He wasn’t quite sure what Lysander had in mind until he reached around him from behind and shifted the pick from his palm to his fingertips, pressing himself against Elliott’s back as he pulled the guitar into him.  Then, the instrument seemed to come to life under his partner’s hands.  It was an energetic, heavy, powerful piece that made the guitar almost dance under his touch; the voice in which this construct of wood and metal sang was warm and rich, and it felt _alive_.  Lysander almost danced in place himself, and Elliott actually felt him holding back, as he couldn’t hold the instrument properly with him in the way, but he knew that the other man enjoyed not only the challenge of it, but being able to share the experience.

As he so often did, the musician allowed the last notes to fade away on their own, and once again the guitar became inert.  Elliott had almost been holding his breath the entire time, loath to interrupt the duet in any fashion, and he now relaxed.

_How amazing.  How lively!  I almost feel as though I were a voyeur, intruding upon an intimate moment that others share.  Were I the jealous sort, I would be envious of the manner in which he touches an instrument, as I thought that I was the only one who he caresses like that._

This thought was extremely amusing, making him laugh, and at Lysander’s query, he explained what he had found funny, which prompted the same laugh from the guitarist, as well as a delighted kiss on the cheek and hug around the shoulders.

They worked a little longer until Elliott heard the other man yawn.  Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that the hazel eyes were a little unfocused.  “You appear to be tired, dear.”

“Mm, yeah,” Lysander agreed, sitting up and yawning again, “I guess the adrenaline high of, like, _everything_ wore off, and I’m starting to feel it.”

Putting Harmony into its case and putting the pick in the frets where Lysander had retrieved it earlier, he closed the case and secured the clasps.  They hadn’t pulled out Resonance since Lysander had been devoting the entire lesson to Elliott and Harmony, so both guitars went to their respective locations of storage and both men to the bedroom.  Lysander stripped down in a rather haphazard and scattered manner, discarding his garments randomly before he dropped into bed, yawning deeply as he fumbled to get under the blanket and pull it over himself.  Elliott was only barely more coordinated in his disrobing, tossing his clothes over a chair, then easing himself into place behind his partner, who was already mostly asleep.

Kissing Lysander on the temple, he shifted him a little to slide his arm under the pillow while he curled up around him, and was gratified to feel him reach up with the same hand to twine their fingers together.  He snuggled as close to his partner as he could, his other arm around his waist, and felt the other hand clasp firmly over his.  “Good night my dear,” he said, hugging him as he felt himself begin to drift off, “I love you.”

“Mm.  Love you too, love,” Lysander murmured, almost asleep himself, “you feel so good, just…warm…”

_It is my body that gives you warmth, but it is the flame of your soul that gives warmth to me, my dearest.  We enhance each other.  Together we are so much greater than we ever could be alone._

Idly, as he felt the tendrils of sleep dig in, Elliott brushed the place on Lysander’s hand where a ring would go…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	51. No Medium Untouched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Finally over that damn cold, yay! It nearly messed with my posting schedule, and that will NOT do.//

Lysander giggled as Elliott kissed his neck, and tried to block him with a pillow.  “Stoppit, I’m ticklish, that’s-  Oh gods, GAH!!”

At this admission, Elliott grinned, wrapped an arm around his partner’s shoulders, and held him close to dance fingers up his side.  Yelping and laughing, Lys tried to struggle free, only to find himself pinned flat on his front while the other man sat across his hips.  With both hands now available, Elliott tickled furiously, enjoying the breathless swearing gasped out in between laughter.  After a minute or so, he shifted to allow Lysander to sit up, but his partner was in no condition to move just yet, wiping his eyes and still giggling from the residual high.

“You are _so_ lucky I love you.  You are just awful!”

“That’s _why_ you love me,” Elliott riposted, leaning over to kiss him, “and I think I’ve got you quite warmed up for your run.”

Finally able to sit up, Lysander tangled his fingers in Elliott’s hair with one hand and gently dragged the nails of the other down his back as he kissed him in return.  “And I’m _hot_ for _you_.  You should get a little more rest, ‘cause when I get back I am going to ride you harder and faster than _Morgenlied_.”  It was Elliott’s turn to laugh, somewhat ruining the kiss, but it was the effect that Lysander had wanted, so he giggled again and gently bit the side of his ear as he got up.  “Stay comfy, love, I’ll be back soon.”

Amused, Elliott reclined against the pillows again, folding his arms behind his head.  “So my duty in this relationship is to keep your bed warm for you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!  Besides, you’re just so good at it that it would be a shame to have you do anything else,” Lysander replied with a straight face, which changed into a smirk as he pulled on his running pants.

He dressed quickly and gave Elliott one last peck after he laced up his shoes.  Hearing the front door close, Elliott shrugged to himself and leaned over to retrieve his phone from his trousers, plugged it in to one of the cables on the nightstand, and browsed idly while he waited for Lysander to return.  He might as well “stay comfy,” as his phone needed the charge anyway, and he wasn’t quite hungry enough to get up to make anything.  Returning a little while later, Lysander kept good on his “promise,” and Elliott needed a few minutes after it all before he could get up to join him for a shower.

 

“I’m pretty much free whenever,” Lysander remarked, seated comfortably at a table at the saloon several hours later, “but I dunno about you, Sam, or if anyone else has any specific commitments in the near future.”  Everyone was likewise checking schedules on their respective phones while they ate or drank, all wearing thoughtful expressions.

“My work days are the same as always, so we can go ahead and knock those out.  Any chance we can aim for a weekend?  Better chance for a bigger crowd, y’know?” Sam replied, poking the screen with the thumb of the hand that held the phone while he stuffed a slice of combo pizza into his mouth with the other.

“Weekends’re good,” Abigail piped up, “I’ve got some online classes going on right now, but nothing I need to attend directly, and all of my homework will be due on Friday anyway.”

Nobody else had anything of import or that couldn’t be moved, and after a bit of back-and-forth about finalizing their set list and the last bit of practice that they’d need prior to the gig, they decided on a date and time.  Elliott refilled Lysander’s beer as he messaged his father, narrating out loud as he did so, and grinned widely as he tapped “send.”

“So, how does it feel to know that we’re going to be performing live as a proper band in a couple of weeks?”

Sam had finally put his phone down in order to grab a paper towel to wipe his hands, and as he reached for his beer he suddenly stared off at nothing and put his chin in his hand.  It had been his dream for as long as he could remember, but it actually happening?  It was almost difficult to grasp.  Lysander patted him on the shoulder in the manner of a supportive older brother, glad that he was able to help him make it happen.  “Good thing that dad has the inside lead on that spot, because yesterday was fun but not a success for any of us.  Even me, and I’ve performed in some capacity all over that area.”

Agreeing as he took a long swig of his beer, Sam noted that there wasn’t much that their friend _hadn’t_ done.  “Theater, music, dance…” he ticked off a few styles and chuckled.  “You’ve probably also done film, too, haven’t you?”  Somewhat surprised, and almost hesitant to answer, Lysander confirmed this, and drank about half of his beer at once, putting it down just in time for Sam to nudge him with a playful grin.  “Ha!  Man, I’m not surprised.  Though I figure that with your history you’d be doing movies of a naughtier sort instead of some artsy crap.”  Elliott, as usual, found Sam’s ever-risqué commentary to be amusing but nonsensical, but raised an eyebrow when Lysander coughed and put down his glass.  He wasn’t the only one, as Sam was wondering why his friend would react so strongly to such an off-the-wall remark.  “Dude, I’m just funning you and you know it.”

Lysander had no reply, and Elliott knew his partner well enough to recognize him trying to think of a way to hastily distract the other musician and change the subject, despite the fact that he was a terrible liar and pretty much wore his emotions on his sleeve.

_…Wait.  Dear, have you really?..._

Usually oblivious to subtlety, it was now that Sam also noticed Lysander’s reluctance to answer and did the necessary mental math to come up with a sum that his friend had tried to avoid giving.  “…You didn’t actually…  _Dude_ , no way.”

The sudden silence from everyone was surprised, not judgmental, but even so, for once, Lysander appeared embarrassed to answer.  He toyed with his half-empty glass for a moment before setting it down and rubbing his eyes.  “Okay, fine.  We’re all mature and friends, so I’ll just tell it like it is.  Yes, I was a performer in a film of an adult nature a few years back.  End of story.”

Completely broadsided by this absolutely unexpected admission, Elliott was without words.

_You have never mentioned this to me.  We are aware of so many of each other’s secrets, but this one has never been alluded to, much less admitted._

Glancing around the table at his friends, Lysander finally noticed Elliott and went pale.  “Love, I know I-“

“It’s…  This is a….”  Elliott was just as flustered as his companion, but he was unable to start over and put together something coherent because the other man had grabbed his wrist as he stood up.

“Back in a few,” he remarked to the others, “just need a minute.”

Elliott allowed himself to be dragged outside, and, standing just outside of the door, Lysander hugged himself and looked away, unsure of where to start, but his partner didn’t have that hesitation.  “So when were you going to tell me?  You weren’t, were you?” he asked, when Lysander didn’t reply to his initial query.

Biting his lip, the other man couldn’t make eye contact with him, for once looking uncomfortable with a subject.  “I didn’t think you’d…”

“What?  That I wouldn’t understand?  That I’d be angry?” Elliott pressed, not mad or irritated, just confused.  Shifting his feet, Lysander shrugged.

“I could handle that. I…” He paused and shrugged again.  “Thought that you would be disappointed.”  Even more confused, Elliott blinked as he tried to see the conversation from his partner’s angle and asked him why he thought like that.  “Because…  Screw it, I don’t know, it was a stupid concern.”  His stare was fixed very pointedly on the ground and his tone empty as he hugged himself even more tightly.

_My dearest, what is wrong?  I have never seen such reticence or a lack of confidence in yourself before.  What is it about this one moment in your past that brings about such a reluctance to speak?_

“No, you had a reason,” Elliott replied, still trying to be patient, but now more concerned than confused, “you always do.”

For a moment, Lysander was finally able to look him in the eyes, and Elliott’s heart ached from the look of worry that his partner wore.  “You know why,” he whispered.

“No, I don’t, which is why I want you to tell me.”  Elliott wanted so badly to hold him, to make his pain go away, but he didn’t understand. It didn’t matter, because of how firmly Lysander had turned in on himself and therefore shut everyone else out.

Eventually, Lysander licked his lips and tried to formulate a reply.  “You’re posh, love.  You come from a prosperous family with a good name.  I thought that you would, well…”

“So?  That doesn’t-“  He was a little relieved at this statement, that ever again, ever as _always_ , Lysander’s concern was for others and not himself!  Taking a long breath to compose himself, he found a smile.  “Dear, I have already told you that I don’t care what you did in your past.  I love you for who you are now, and that includes everything that has happened, because every event and decision has contributed a piece to create your gestalt.”

This appeared to ease Lysander’s apprehension a little, and he put gentle fingers under his chin to meet his eyes again.  Those hazel eyes still looked a little hurt, but they were warm.  “I’m not disappointed,” Elliott reassured in a soft voice, “I promise.  Confused?  Yes.  Surprised?  Extremely so.  Mostly I am feeling hurt in that you did not trust me enough to tell me about this sooner.”  He toyed with his partner’s hair with his other hand, the smile deepening further.  “I will not condemn you for things that happened before we met.  You know that I am not bothered by your lengthy history of lovers.  Why do you think that I would think adversely of you for this?”

Sighing, Lysander leaned into Elliott’s touch.  “This is different.  At least with other people it was because I was romantically involved in some way and it was personal.  This was basically getting paid to shag, and I thought that you’d look down upon it.”  His face fell again as he looked away once more.  “That you’d think I was cheap and easy.”

Seeing an opportunity to make him laugh, Elliott helpfully pointed out that his family _was_ in the entertainment business, so being paid for a performance was completely understandable.  It didn’t quite make him laugh, but it was the first smile that he’d had since this topic had come up, so it would have to do.  “The only thing I do not understand is the _why_.  That’s what I want to know.”

Lysander leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets.  He wasn’t quite relaxed, but it was better than nothing.  “Because I thought it might be fun.  Why else do I do anything, really?”

He sighed and bit his lip again, shifting his stance to something a bit more comfortable.  Elliott listened quietly as Lysander ticked off a few points, all of which eased his mind; it was all completely consensual and his choice, everyone used proper protection, no real names were used, and because of the way it had been done and how, it was difficult to find because it hadn’t been distributed in anything other than a limited hard-copy format.

“Nobody else knows about it,” he remarked, the smile finally finding its way to both corners of his lips, “I just saw an advert and thought, why not?  Hell, it would be the first time any of my skills could actually be useful and generate income.”  This strange but in-character comment brought a hearty laugh from Elliott and finally thawed the last of Lysander’s self-imposed ice.  It was the other man’s turn to reach for the other, with a hand on Elliott’s face and an arm around his waist.  “But you know me, love I’m all about trying new things, and back then, it’s not like I had a good reputation anyway.”  His smile slipped a little as he remembered this, and Elliott’s expression mirrored it, remembering a similar statement in the city the day before.  “I thought I might as well have a bit of fun while I was young, and like I said yesterday, I didn’t think anyone would be interested in me long-term or anything, so what did it matter?  But now?”  He smiled at Elliott, giving him that welcome, warm tingle that he’d wanted since this conversation had started.  “You and your family have a good reputation, and I was concerned that word of this thing would reflect badly on all of you.”

_Ever as always, my dearest, I am first in your mind.  What I would not give for you to be a little selfish and think of yourself for once!_

Hugging Lysander fiercely, he threaded his fingers through his partner’s hair, relieved to feel him melt into the embrace.  “One of the many things that I love about you is your unwavering confidence in yourself and your abilities,” he sighed, nuzzling Lysander’s ear, “I cannot imagine myself doing that, no, but I do not think any less of you for it.”  Lysander’s hold grew a little firmer as he softly apologized for not mentioning it before it had come out like this.  Kissing his neck, Elliott reassured him.  “I have learned something new about you, and yet again I am fascinated by your history.”

“If anything else comes to mind that you should know I won’t hesitate to tell you again,” he sighed, his words somewhat muffled in Elliott’s collar, “you should know all about my past, because I want to share my future with you.”  Completely relieved, Elliott thanked him for his candor, though he lamented that he lacked the experiences and stories that his companion did.  “Well, I suppose the least that I can do is show it to you.  It’s buried somewhere but shouldn’t take me too long to dig up.”

The sudden shift in tone gave Elliott pause, and he blinked a couple of times as he thought about Lysander’s comment.  “…Pardon?”

That ever-present, cheeky grin now split the copper-haired man’s face.  “You really think that I wouldn’t keep a copy for myself?” At Elliott’s admission that he had wondered but hadn’t said anything, Lysander grinned even more widely.  “But you were too embarrassed to ask?  No, that’s not the word for it.”  He glanced away as he thought about it.  “You’re too polite to ask.  You know what?  I’m going to be impartial about it,” he decided aloud, clearly enjoying the look of mounting embarrassment on Elliott’s face, “but I promise not to be lecherous, perverted, or the least bit seductive at any time.  I want you to know everything about me and be comfortable about it.  And again, don’t worry, this can’t be found anywhere online or anything, so you don’t have to worry about something like your mom discovering it.”

Elliott was the next to relax into the other person’s arms, but it was only momentary, as Lysander’s grin became quite mischievous, and Elliott knew well what sort of things that it heralded.  “Although…  I wonder if it would be more amusing for her to find out about this, or if we made our own film together and left it lying around.”  The blonde man’s internal monologue was a sustained, incoherent scream of terror, which must have reflected on his face and in his body language, because Lysander burst out laughing, and did so long and hard enough that he doubled over, clutching his middle, and barely was able to wipe his eyes.  “Oh wow, I should feel bad about that, but I wish you could have seen your face just then.”

His face red and his heart pounding, Elliott felt himself almost sweating in terror at the thought of such a thing happening.  “By the light, please don’t joke about things like that, dear!” he gasped.

After a moment or two, Lysander scrubbed a sleeve across his eyes and put his sunglasses back on, the fit of laughter reduced to giggles.  “I’m sorry, I really am,” he wheezed, “but I could not pass up that opportunity.  And I know you’re not an exhibitionist, so I won’t suggest that sort of thing again.  The thought of it is funnier than you know.”

No longer in a state of near-panic, Elliott sighed again and tried to appear offended, though he knew he was failing at it, and suggested that they return to their friends, provided that the other man was finished with teasing him.  Agreeing, Lysander kissed him and took his hand, volunteering to be the one to deflect Sam’s inevitable barrage of questions, holding the door open for them both.  Elliott squeezed his hand again and took his seat once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	52. Nighttime Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //One of these days I'll move the story along. But today is not that day!//

Topping off the half-drunk beer that he’d left behind, as well as Elliott’s, and giving Sam a look that said he wasn’t interested in mischief, Lysander offered his friends a smile.  “Now that that’s settled, where were we?”  Sam reminded him of the last conversation that they’d had and how he wanted to know more, but the other man gave him another look of warning.  “That’s none of your damn business and you know it,” he said, politely but firmly.  Elliott found it interesting that his partner was so adamant about not talking further about this subject, since he had never been bothered by much in his past.  Then it occurred to him that it wasn’t _himself_ for which he was concerned, it was for Elliott’s sake.  He felt a small flutter of pride in his partner for his thoughtfulness.

Shrugging, Sam appeared to have dropped the subject, but that lasted until his ears were connected by a very toothy grin.  “Hey, you should change your Chatter name to ‘G-String’ instead!”  Lysander put his drink down roughly and called his friend by his full name, surprising the others, and it was this that finally got Sam to back off.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Sorry dude, I sometimes have a hard time letting go of something funny or interesting.  And you’re both.” He grinned again, but it wasn’t cheeky, it was happy.  “I’m not giving you shit most of the time, usually I’m genuinely curious.  You’re the only person in this town that’s weirder than I am and that’s so cool.”  Smiling back, Lysander thanked him for the compliment but denied being “cool,” and Sam appeared to be miffed for once.

“Don’t give me that crap,” he huffed, pointing a finger at his friend for emphasis, “you believe in yourself and your abilities a hundred percent.  I mean, damn, I’m outgoing, but you’re the one who got up and danced for the entire town a few months ago.”  He blinked as he remembered this, and apologized to Elliott for it, laughing both in amusement and embarrassment, and turned back to Lysander.  “But still, I mean, not much bothers me, but the thought of that kind of thing terrifies me, and you just went out there and owned that stage.”  Lysander was quite flattered by all of this, but repeated his statement that he was neither cool nor interesting, just strange.  As he picked up his beer his expression changed to one of baffled shock when Sam slapped the back of his head, and Elliott was caught between laughing and gasping as Sam glared at his friend.  “Quit being a dumbass and so modest about everything.”

Still baffled, Lysander picked up and put down his drink again.  “No, _seriously_ , I’m not.”

Now with the proverbial bit in his teeth, Sam had a look of determined seriousness that Elliott couldn’t ever recalling him have before.  “Okay, fine, I’m just buzzed enough that I’ll stroke your ego.  Elliott can stroke something else for you later.”

Both Lysander and Elliott were silent with surprise, but both for slightly different reasons.  However, Elliott smiled as Sam ticked off on his fingers why he liked and respected his friend, and the author began to understand why the other man had considered pursuing Lysander as a romantic option.  He respected his skill in music, dance, and voice.  He always gave everything a try, even if he was scared, because it needed to be done.  He was dating “the hottest guy in town,” and Elliott allowed himself to feel satisfaction from his friend’s approval of not just their relationship, but that Sam considered him to be that attractive.  He also respected how the musician always believed in people and worked his hardest to believe in themselves as well and to succeed.

Gesturing emphatically, he pointed a finger again at Lysander as he reached his final points.  “We’re all better people just because you told us we could be, and you’re so damn honest and enthusiastic that not only did we believe it, we didn’t want to disappoint you.  So shut your noise-hole, dude, you’re totally my cool older brother and I’ll slap you again if you give me lip about it.”  He looked quite pleased with himself, but nearly spilled his beer when Lysander leaned over and pulled him into the sort of hug he normally only gave to Elliott, and asked him what it was that he’d said wrong.

“Sorry,” Lysander whispered, digging his fingers into his friend’s back, “nothing.  Everything.  I..”

It was Sam’s turn to wear a look of surprise when Lysander kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair, somewhat messing up the spiky coiffure.  He sat up in his chair properly, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and gave his friends a warm, happy smile.  “I’m who I am because a long time ago I figured, ‘why the hell not?’  I was always the weird outcast, and I never had any dreams or desires for the future.  I honestly figured I’d die young and alone, so what I never did really mattered, so why not do whatever?  Have some fun, do a few things really well, burn my candle short but bright and brilliant.  And even though nobody ever took me seriously I still wanted to help them out.”  Elliott had heard this before but it still hurt to hear him admit it.  He knew that it was in his partner’s past, not his present or future, but the knowledge of the pain that had shaped him into the man he now was still felt like a twisting knife.

Holding his glass with both hands, Lysander made random prints in the condensation on his glass with his thumb, smiling softly as he mused aloud.  He spoke of the feelings and emotions that he loved, ones that were hard to describe sometimes, but he valued and wanted so much to share with others; the closeness that people could get together, where their warmth and “selves” almost merged, something soft but electric at the same time.  A sort of happiness that filled a person entirely and gave them both a solidity and weightlessness inside.  Most of the table looked politely puzzled, interested in his words but not quite getting the point, but Elliott understood the sensations he was describing, having just discovered them himself.

“I just want everyone to know that happiness, at least once, and all I want in return is a smile, because I was able to show them something amazing and wonderful, and they can now share that with someone else.”  He came back to reality and blushed at the way his friends were looking at him, apparently not having expected to be quite that emotionally verbose.  Glancing away from the stares of his friends, he smiled again when Elliott took his hand and twined his fingers with his, recognizing that his partner knew what he had been talking about and felt the same way.

Trying to spare Lysander further embarrassment and redirect the conversation, Elliott asked what everyone else had done while they were in the city, offering to cover the next round of food and drink for them to do so.  This worked, and they all forgot about the moment of prose, for which Lysander spared him a glance of thanks.  He had returned to his usual self by the time they paid their tabs and got up to leave, and as usual, was the last one to depart.  This time, though, Sebastian waited a moment for him to get his attention.

“Hey, I just want to say that I didn’t get it before, and I was a bit of a self-absorbed ass about it sometimes, but I understand now.  Thanks for sharing that with me.”  With a self-deprecating chuckle, Lysander apologized for not respecting his personal space at that time, but his friend sighed and rolled his eyes as he cuffed him on the shoulder.  “Lys, you’re not listening.”  Neither Lysander or Elliott were expecting the happy smile from the generally-solitary man, but Lysander was quick to recover.

“I guess I wasn’t.  Thanks for sharing that with me, too.”

The smile got even wider, and he offered Elliott a friendly fistbump as he walked away and pulled out the pack of flavored cigarettes.  Elliott wasn’t quite paying attention when Lysander took his hand and offered to take a longer route to walk on the way home, and he immediately fell into step next to him.  It took him nearly half a minute to realize that he had instinctively turned to walk in the direction of Lysander’s home, as well as the realization that he considered it to be “home” as well.  It was another full minute after that that he remembered the video that Lysander had promised to show to him, so he had subconsciously been going in the direction that contained said video.  Lysander picked up on this and giggled, though to his credit, he did try to hide it.  Elliott asked him what was so funny, and with a shrug, Lysander called him out on exactly that thought.

Turning almost as red as his partner’s hair, he tried to explain himself.  “I suppose that I am somewhat transparent.  It is not that I desire to see that form of film, it is simply that I wish to know more about your past and what you have done so that I better know and understand you.  However, I do not want to seem overly eager-“

Lysander laughed heartily and loudly, tugging on his hand to get him to walk faster as he increased his pace.  The sooner they got there the sooner that Elliott’s mind could be put at ease…

 

Toying with a lock of his partner’s copper-red hair wrapped around his finger, Elliott relaxed against Lysander’s shoulder, his full weight sprawled atop him, but Lysander didn’t seem to mind.  Rather, the other man laid back on the couch, head on a pillow against the armrest and arms around the author, looking _extremely_  satisfied.  He let go for just a moment to reach for the remote to turn off the TV screen, as they had paused the disc partway through, and Elliott relaxed a little further now that they were quite done for a little while and he could be embarrassed about that sort of thing, not aroused.

“I’m almost annoyed that I didn’t tell you about this sooner,” Lysander remarked, “that was _very_ good.”  He giggled as Elliott flushed a little and let go of his hair, and he took the now-free fingers to kiss them.  “I’m teasing, love.  I’m just glad that you’re okay with it.”

Elliott shifted to kiss his neck, then traced his fingers over the lines of his chest, as his shirts had been discarded earlier and they hadn’t bothered to get them back.  “Now that I know what to expect, and that you have told me, I am.  There’s so much I understand now, and I am a greater person for all of it.”  At Lysander’s non-verbal query of curiosity, Elliott shifted again to brush his lips with another kiss before settling back down again.  “What you said at the saloon today, that feeling that you want to share with others.  I understand it.  Now, I do, that is, I never experienced anything like that before.  I have had a couple of romantic interests, and one longer than the others, but never before has it been anything as… _much_ as this.  This feeling, here…” he tried to hug him, though it was a little awkward with the way he was laying atop him, “this pressure and weight of body and soul, almost merging, sharing our warmth together.  Sharing _us_ , ourselves.”

Nodding, Lysander kissed the top of his head and hugged him again.  “It’s interesting what we learn from other people.  …Oh…”  Lysander’s sudden, thoughtful silence was worrying, and as Elliott sat up to look at him he saw a smile.  “I just remembered something else you should probably know, too.”  A little concerned, Elliott reclined atop him again and listened as Lysander threaded his fingers through his hair this time, diving back into his memories.

“I’d always been, well, sorta free with my affections for a while when I started university, but I hadn’t really _dated_ much.  Then I went out clubbing one night, just for a change of pace and met someone really cute.”  This memory made him giggle and bite his lip and Elliott feigned a pout, which made him laugh again.  “We were chatting it up for a while, we bought each other a drink, and he offered just a quick one-time thing.  I figured hey, why not, sounds like fun, I’m young and free, and I was there to have a good time.  So we finished our drinks, popped off to the men’s room to grab a few items from the vending machine, and I expected us to go somewhere else, but he had another idea.”

“You…”  Elliott blinked and gave Lysander a look of incredulous surprise.  “Are you telling me that he suggested…  Right there in the club?!”

“Mmyup,” he laughed, “I wasn’t expecting it, either, but again, young and adventurous, and this sounded sorta exciting, so we found a dark area nobody else was in and, well…  Yeah, up against the wall.  The music was loud enough even over there that we weren’t in much danger of getting discovered.  _Much_.”

He paused again to think about that memory and shuddered with pleasure, biting his lip even more firmly.  “Gods, that was good.  Just so…dangerous and forbidden and…  He would already have been great in the sack normally, but I’m just enough an exhibitionist that this was amazing.  I still had a hell of a time trying not to make any noise, even though he did tell me I could be a bit vocal.  So I did, and gods, that pushed him right over the edge.  I wasn’t quite done yet, but before I could say anything he turned me right around and…”  He shuddered again and nibbled on Elliott’s ear.  “Damn, the things he did with his mouth, I don’t know how I lasted as long as I did.  And yeah, I know you’re wondering, we used protection, that’s what the vending machine stop was for,” he said, poking him playfully, “then we got ourselves presentable again, went back to the bar, had a couple more drinks, exchanged numbers, and went our separate ways a little later.”

“…Well,” Elliott commented after a lengthy pause, “this appears to have been the event that began your, how should I put it, career as a freelance lover.”

“A little, yeah.  We hooked up a couple of times again on and off, usually just for a quick break-a-dry-spell shag, since we liked each other enough as friends, especially ones with benefits, we couldn’t really see us _together_.  So…  Yeah, that’s something that happened. I got busy with a complete stranger in the back hall of a busy club.  That’s the sort of person you’re dating, love.”

Elliott sighed, and it made Lysander worry for a moment, but once more Elliott sat up to kiss him, this time deeply.  “That _was_ the person you were, it is not who I love now, and it does not make me love you any less.  Thank you for telling me.  If I may be blunt, I almost envy your self-confidence in being able to engage in such spontaneous flings.  One of the many reasons for which I treasure you is that you always find a way to surprise me.  Always an anecdote or event or hobby or interest, something strange and unusual, yet completely _you_ , and each time I feel as though I am meeting you all over again.”

That warm smile lit up Lysander’s eyes, and he palmed a hand to Elliott’s cheek.  “And you still find me an acceptable companion sometimes?”

“I find you a _wonderful_ companion _every_ time.”

Lysander hugged him close again, silent for a moment.  “Thank you, love.  Sometimes I need to hear that.”

“I will say it as often as you need, because the truth should always be known.”

Laughing, Lysander wrapped both legs and arms around him to hug him as tightly as he could.  “C’mon, love, I enjoy having you on top of me like that, but I don’t think I’ll get a good night of sleep on the couch.  Let’s go get comfy.”

Elliott agreed and got up, offering a hand to his partner, then walked with him to the bedroom, arm around his waist.  Though they usually took up the entire bed between the both of them, Lysander had wanted a bit closer contact this time, and Elliott carefully distributed his weight upon his partner as he got comfortable, also enjoying the full-body contact, but not wanting to cause him discomfort.  After a minute they figured themselves out, and Lysander sighed happily as he tucked his nose into the curve of Elliott’s throat, gently bumping his chin.

“I’ve needed this for so long,” he said, already close to dozing off, “I’ve slept with so many people, but this is the best _sleep_ I’ve ever had.  I just feel so…complete with you.”

“I was likewise incomplete, and together, we are more.”

“Yeah.  We’re _us_ now.”

This thought gave Elliott a warm surge of pleasure, which was the last thing in his mind as he joined his partner in rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	53. Of Promises and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //This took a long time to finish and posted so late because I finally got FFXIV!Lysander to level 50, so some of my FC mates and I were having a little "hurrah" and some fun in crafting some vanity gear for him now that he can glamour his armor whilst conversing in voice chat as well as in-game. ...The short of a VERY long story is that shenanigans happened and we all very nearly need rescue breathing because we were laughing so goddamn hard. I couldn't see for several minutes and damn near coughed up a lung. We got some AMAZING screenshots... :D//

Another nightmare.  Lysander hadn’t had them in some time, but this one woke Elliott first from him nearly thrashing about, then the dreamer himself.  He sat up, a wordless shout of fear startling Elliott further.  Putting a hand to his neck, he was nearly hyperventilating from whatever it was he had just woken, and jumped in surprise when Elliott softly called to him.  Hazel eyes that were usually warm were now wide with terror and pain, though it eased a little when Elliott reached out to him.

The fear turned to mixed relief as tears welled up.  “Love, you’re-  I thought you-  I had-  I…  By the light, you’re safe, I thought…”  He leaned into Elliott’s hand on his cheek, his hand over his partner’s, drawing strength from this simple contact.  Elliott offered reassuring words, and Lysander finally took a deep, albeit shuddering, breath and continued.  “I don’t know what happened.  Just…  Something happened, and you’d died, and I didn’t know about it, I couldn’t help you, I was useless, and it hurt.  Everything hurt.  I couldn’t stop screaming.”  He found further comfort in Elliott’s arms, pressing against him as hard as he could, eyes closed tightly, barely able to form a proper sentence.  “My mind, my heart it all… Pain, so much pain…  Like last time, I…  I had to end the pain…  I wasn’t strong enough, I couldn’t live without you, and I found the same knife…”  He dissolved into tears.  “I’m sorry, I’m not strong enough.  So _weak_.  Sorry, I’m sorry, love…”

Elliott felt a cold wash of his own terror at this admission; not the nightmare, those were sometimes a thing that happened.  But the freely admitted fact that he had, even in a dream, chosen that route again.  He had already considered it before, after that argument, but even this amount of time and companionship had not healed wounds completely, if at all.  Worried for his partner, he was able to keep his voice light and steady, offering the support that he knew Lysander needed.

“You are not weak, you are a man of passion and action,” he said, stroking his hair, “you are capable of such great love and caring for others that you also feel their loss and pain just as strongly.  And in dreams we are often given to extremes or to do things that we normally would not.”  He refrained from mentioning that fight, as it wouldn’t help his case any, and Lysander did _not_ need that sort of reminder.  “Put your mind at ease; I am here and so are you, and I will be here for many years yet.  But your fear now raises a shared one within me.  Promise me that if something _were_ to happen that you would continue on, that you would find someone new to make you happy.”  Lysander shook his head and stiffened, asking him to not make such a request, but Elliott would not relent.  He put gentle fingers to his chin and forced Lysander to meet his eyes.  “Dearest, promise me.  Please.”

Always a terrible liar as it was, Lysander definitely couldn’t do so to Elliott’s face and they both knew it.  After a moment of silence he nodded.  “…I promise.”  When Elliott prodded him to continue, he took another breath, this time steady.  “…To keep going if something were to happen to you, and to find someone new.”

Elliott felt as though the weight of the house itself had been lifted off of him, and he sighed with relief both for and from it.  “Good,” he said, pulling his partner close for a kiss.  There was still residual fear and worry in that contact, but he wasn’t the only one who felt a lack of both mental and physical pressure melting away.

_My dearest, I wish that I had the words to tell you exactly what you mean to me.  I should find it horrifying and morbid that you would choose such a fate were I gone, but at the same time, it fills me with hope, because it also means that you will fight your hardest to keep what you have.  I do not have your bravery, I would simply waste away and languish in despair.  I will fight for you, for us.  What we have is precious and I refuse to let go at any cost._

It was far too early for Lysander to meet with Alex for his customary morning run, but he was too agitated from the somnambular near-death experience to go back to sleep.  There wasn’t much else to be done at this time in the morning, so Elliott suggested that he at least curl up with him a little while, just to ease his mind and calm down again.  Reclining back against the pillows, Elliott waited for his partner to get in place atop him before pulling the blankets back over them and holding him just firmly enough to be comforting, but not so much that he was smothering.

“I thought that I was finally beyond those fears,” Lysander sighed, “that I was finally free.”

Kissing him on the cheek, Elliott ran his fingers through the loose, copper-red hair.  “As long as you love someone that concern will always be there.  What matters is how you deal with it, and whether you learn to manage it or let it control you.”

Lysander said nothing further, but from what Elliott could see of his expression from his angle his silence was thoughtful.  The silence changed a few minutes later to the soft, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep, and Elliott nearly woke him again from chuckling; not only was he already asleep, he was snoring as well!  Without trying, he matched his partner’s breathing, and was asleep shortly after as well.

They both slept without further incident until Lysander needed to get up for his run, and Elliott got up as well to get (partially) dressed and make coffee and a morning snack.  Lysander was grateful for both when he returned, and traded a warm, if somewhat sweaty, hug for both caffeine and calories.  As he consumed his repast he remarked that he and Alex had discussed giving him swimming lessons later that day.

Leaning against the counter, Elliott listened as he held his cup in both hands, trying to remember the location in question.  “There’s a…  Ah, yes, I recall now, I haven’t been that way in a little while, but there is that small lake just south of here, isn’t there?  Yes, I passed by it on the way to the Flower Dance both times, but I didn’t quite go that far to visit Leah, so it had rather slipped my mind.  Although we did find a number of interesting things there to forage the other day.  Oh!”  He snapped his fingers, remembering something else.  “The berries are still good, but they’ll not keep for much longer.  I’ll make something with them later tonight.”

Lysander perked up at this suggestion, putting down his cup to brush crumbs off of his fingers into the sink.  “That’d be amazing.  Especially after swimming, I’ll probably want something hot and filling like that when I get out of the water.”

“And it would be a lovely reward for you for facing your fears like that,” Elliott teased, nuzzling Lysander’s neck.  The other man laughed and ducked away, blushing a little.  “Well, it _would_ ,” he stated, putting an arm around his waist to draw him closer and kiss him, “the memory of the night on the docks still brings me worry, and to see you stand up and decide to take action yourself gives me satisfaction and pride.  It is not an easy thing to do, staring down one’s phobias, and so while I may gently tease, know that I am both delighted and relieved to see you improve yourself.”

Returning the kiss, but letting it linger a bit longer, Lysander smiled and gave him a one-armed hug before reaching for his coffee.  “Thanks, love.  No lie, I’m a little worried, but that’s just old, bad memories talking.  It’s perfectly safe; the lake isn’t that deep and doesn’t have any hazards or weird currents, and I’ll have you and Alex there in case of… _something_.  I’m sorta looking forward to it, actually.”

Their meager breakfast over, they quickly got cleaned up and dressed, and took care of the morning chores.  As they returned to the house, Elliott paused to glance at the area that Lysander had planted his sunflowers (which were growing quite nicely), and the other man asked what he’d been thinking of.

“I…  You said once that you had considered planting roses here before.”

“Oh?  Oh!  Yeah, they’d be great right about…  Over there,” he said, pointing in one direction, “why, you thinking of transferring yours over here?  How is it faring, anyway?”

Elliott smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the unprompted offer.  “It is doing much better for the advice that you have given, though it would do much better to not be trapped within the confines of that little pot.  However, I have a suggestion in mind, if you are amenable to it.”  Lacing his fingers behind his head, Lysander shifted his weight to one leg and asked him to continue.  “That rose is from mother’s garden.  We aren’t given to horticulture, but she has a fondness for roses, and we have a variety of colors and variants.  Perhaps I can ask her if we could transplant a few cuttings here.”

The warm feeling almost became hot as Lysander’s eyes and mouth grew wide with delight.  “No _way_.  She does?  You would?  That’s be-  That’s just-  Yes, and we’ve got a way to get down there-  Oh bugger, it’s probably a bad idea to transport cuttings on a motorcycle, isn’t it?”  He laughed and hugged Elliott very firmly.  “I would love that.  It’d be like having you here, too.”

Arms around Lysander’s shoulders, Elliott toyed with a lock of his hair.  “Would you like me to be here more often?” he asked quietly.

“I’d love to have you here all the time,” he replied, then realized what it potentially implied, and blushed even harder than he had earlier.  “I-  That is, you know, it’s always a good idea to live together for a while to see if you’re compatible-  Not that we’re doing anything more than dating-  I mean-“

Elliott interrupted him with a much longer and meaningful kiss.  “I understand your intentions and meaning,” he said, tracing a finger over one ear and brushing the gold earring with his thumb, “I would enjoy being here as often as I can as well.  This feels more like a home than mine does and it does not bother me in the slightest.  However, that is a conversation for later.  Right now, let us get inside and changed for the day.  It is still rather chilly out at this point in the morning, and I hope it will be much warmer this afternoon.”

 

There had been a unanimous decision to cancel practice that day so that Alex and Lysander could have their lesson, but despite this, the musician was still surprised to see Sebastian and Abigail ride up, followed by Sam and Haley in Alex’s truck.

Perplexed, Lysander looked between his friends.  “What are all of you doing here?”

Sam was his usual, sunny self, grinning widely enough that it nearly connected his ears.  He explained that Alex had called him and Haley, and that Abigail would likely want to be present for the shenanigans, so she requested a ride down from Sebastian, and so here they all were.  They had agreed to cancel practice, so it figured that they might as well witness the reason that they wouldn’t be rehearsing for their upcoming gig.  When Lysander remarked that this didn’t encourage him very much, Sam riposted that they were there to be entertained, not for moral support.

“Freaking _thanks_ , mate,” Lysander huffed as he took off his shirt.  However, he got it over his head but not off of his arms when he heard Sam, Haley, and Abigail whoop with delight and wolf-whistle at him.  As Sebastian sat downwind of them to take out a light a cigarette, he smirked a little when Abigail cajoled Lysander to continue taking his shirt off.  Sam shouted for him to do it a little more slowly.  Elliott tried not to be too amused by it all, though he offered a warm smile and shrug when his partner glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you do this before, dear,” Elliott remarked, getting comfortable next to his friends, “they’re quite lucky that they get to experience it as well.”

This produced a feigned sniff of displeasure, but the smile he wore told the truth as he shifted his weight to one leg again, put his fists on his hips, and pouted for effect.  “I’m genuinely not sure if I want to give you all a show for the fun of it, or deny you all that pleasure because you’re giving me grief about all of this.”  Unsurprisingly, it was Sam who brought up the prospect of a striptease, and Elliott and Alex devolved into a fit of barely-smothered laughter at the actually-annoyed look that Lysander now wore, and Haley and Abigail were giggling behind their hands, shooting each other meaningful glances.

Having regained control of himself, Alex took off his shirt and threw it at his cousin, hitting him in the face.  “We don’t have all day, bro.  Strip faster or I’ll have Elliott do it for you.”

With a gleeful whoop of “naked time!”, Sam was the next to remove his shirt, also throwing it at Lysander, who had just pulled Alex’s shirt off of his head.  “Oh what the merry hell!” Lysander yowled, sounding like an annoyed cat, “normally I wouldn’t object but I get the feeling that you’re all doing this at my expense.”

Sam partially agreed with this, though his motivation was primarily to get in a final chance to swim before the weather cooled too much for it, which was sweetened by the opportunity to bother his friend.

Smirking and winking at Elliott, Abigail was having a very good time.  “Looks like all of the guys are getting undressed.  You too, handsome, show some solidarity for your man.”  She turned her attention to her boyfriend next.  “And it _is_ cooler out, Sebby, so you can take off that hoodie for a bit.”

The software engineer rebuffed her statement that there wasn’t anything that she could do to convince him to do such a thing, but a whispered suggestion into his ear changed both his expression and opinion immediately.

Elliott shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal, that he was there to provide a morale boost for his partner, not to teach.  “Besides, any state of undress on my behalf would only distract him, and he needs all of the focus that he can get.”

“Says the man who hasn’t blinked since I started taking my pants off,” grinned the musician, allowing the waistband of his pants slide down his hip a little.

Sam confirmed this statement, but observed that it was Abigail who needed to “wipe her chin” as he discarded his shoes and then his jeans, though he almost lost his balance while trying to remove them.  His swim trunks were a bright yellow, which surprised absolutely no one, but it wasn’t him from whom Lysander had borrowed a pair.  Alex had apparently loaned his cousin his casual swim wear, as he had finished undressing to reveal that he was wearing his professional gear from when he was on the swim team back in school.

Elliott was the first to notice how good the athlete looked in them, and wondered just how much one had to exercise and tone in order to not only _get_ but _maintain_ that sort of muscular definition.  Haley noticed next, and her lip-biting grin of approval drew Lysander’s attention to his cousin, which produced a quiet look of surprise.  “I’m really trying not to stare,” he said, looking very impressed, “especially since my boyfriend is right here and you’re my cousin, but damn if you don’t make pro swim gear look amazing.”  Not immune to flattery, Alex smiled and folded his arms across his chest, threatening to throw the other man into the water as-is unless he got changed out a little more quickly.  “Give me a damn minute, I wear boots, you know,” he huffed as he knelt to unlace them.

Laughing raucously, Sam taunted him, telling him to take it off in the same manner that he had in the film he’d been in.  He avoided getting hit by a thrown boot and grinned even more widely.  “Ooh, so it was an S&M movie?  I didn’t know you were into that!”  Barely avoiding the second boot, he threw himself into the water, safe for the moment.

Lysander had finally undressed, putting his clothes in a neat pile, and removed his guitar-pick accessories and sunglasses to set atop it, and picked at the waistband of the trunks to ensure that they fit correctly.  As he straightened up, Alex walked past him and with almost insulting and casual ease, grabbed him around the waist and picked him up, tucking him under one arm and striding toward the water.  Elliott laughed into his sleeve, trying not to make himself heard, but he didn’t have to worry, as Alex and Lysander had begun a quick argument about whether it was better to acclimate slowly or to simply dive in quickly and get it over with.  Lysander was in the camp of “slow and steady,” but Alex couldn’t be bothered to wait, and after a brief scuffle, succeeded in dragging his cousin completely into the water.

Once the musician had become comfortable in the shoulder-deep water, Alex guided him out a bit deeper, offering guidance and verbal support.  Sam frolicked like a blonde otter, flitting about and providing very unhelpful commentary and suggestions, but Elliott noticed that while Lysander did seem to be slightly annoyed by it, he also looked a little grateful for the distraction.  The four on the lake’s side enjoyed all of it, though Elliott noticed that while he and the two girls had quite a bit of eye candy, Sebastian was somewhat left in the cold, so to speak, but he appeared to gain a lot more entertainment from Lysander’s suffering than everyone else.  Sebastian noticed Elliott studying him and shrugged.

“Look, you’ve gotta admit, it is kinda funny watching him be a bit uncomfortable in a safe environment.  I don’t wanna see him get taken down a peg or anything, but it is amusing to see that he isn’t always full of piss and vinegar all the time.”  He took a long drag from his cigarette, smiling around it.  “I love him like a brother, but you know that sometimes it’s fun to watch your annoying younger brother have someone give _him_ grief for once, y’know?”

Amused and agreeing, Elliott inclined his head to the side.  “I suppose that I do, but _I_ am the younger brother, so I cannot quite say that I share the sentiment completely.”

They turned their attention back to the lesson at hand, which hadn’t progressed very far.  Lysander was trying, he really was, but they all could see him getting tense and frustrated, and despite his brave exterior, he was still scared.  For another fifteen or twenty minutes Alex tried to instruct him, but eventually Lysander broke free to head back to the shallows and get on his feet.  Elliott frowned with curiosity when Sam and Alex exchanged a look and a subtle nod, and Sam swam over to the edge of the lake and pulled himself onto the shore, putting a finger to his lips when he saw the others watching him.

Looking defeated, Lysander rubbed his arms and sighed, apologizing.  He really had been trying, but there was a lot of mental baggage to sift and sort, as well as a lot of bad habits and fears that he just wasn’t able to overcome at the moment.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and clear my head and I’ll try again.”

Sam had walked over to Lysander’s clothes, picked up his sunglasses, and put them on.  Fists on his hips, he gave Lysander the biggest, shit-eating grin he could.  “Pretty nice, dude, wicked cool style.”  Lysander stared in shock at him for a moment before loudly demanding that he put them back where he found them.  “Come and get them,” Sam replied, diving back into the water and sculling over to a nearby rock with a casual freestyle stroke.  Climbing atop it, he posed ridiculously.  “Oooh, look at me, I’m Lys, I’m a sexy ginger man, making all of you so hot, ooh.”  He flexed as he wiggled his hips, being as silly as possible, and his audience erupted into laughter, clapping and cheering.

This apparently had been what Alex was planning, because it was his turn to grin when Lysander dove in next, swimming the same way with angry speed.  His antagonist hadn’t noticed him yet, still enjoying his parody, focused completely on his audience.  Hooking a thumb in the waistband of his shorts, he tugged suggestively and winked as he ran the fingers of his other hand down his chest.  “Awww yeah, you all know you want some of this luscious porn star up in your-“  It was now that he noticed that Lysander was missing, but not that the other man had succeeded in swimming to and around the rock, and had now climbed up atop it behind him.

“MINE!” shouted Lysander.

“SHIT!” yelped Sam.

“Splash” went the water.

Elliott sat up a bit straighter, now a little worried, though he was as surprised as anyone else (though not as much as Sam!) that his partner had tackled his friend into the lake like that.  Sam resurfaced quickly after a bit of splashing and looked around with concern.  Seconds later, Lysander appeared, wearing his retrieved sunglasses, glaring at Sam.  “I said, _mine_ ,” he repeated with a growl.  He was confused by Sam’s gleeful laughter and held up an arm to block the water that he flicked at him.  When he asked what Sam was on about, he realized that he had been treading water without thinking about it.  Sam apologized for the jest, for which Lysander immediately forgave him, understanding what Alex pointed out as they returned to him.

“I noticed a while back that you learn by doing, but you also rely on and trust yourself and your instincts implicitly.  The more you think about something the worse you do, so I just needed something, or someone, to distract you so you could let your training take over.”

Lysander laughed heartily and hugged Sam, now completely unafraid, and his friend returned it.  “I’m just paying my debt for nearly getting you killed his summer,” Sam grinned, but Elliott could hear the friendly support in his voice, “now I can proper roughhouse with you like an older brother that I always wanted.”

Like brothers, they played, splashed, and shoved each other as they returned to shore, and Haley picked up her phone when it chimed with a message, looking at the screen curiously.  The three swimmers strode over, with Lysander wringing water from his hair.  Emily had texted Haley to let them know that the band’s outfits were ready, and the final fittings could be done the next day.  There was amazed silence for just a couple of seconds before Sam made a noise like a kettle whistling and hugged Lysander, bouncing with joy as he did so.  Sebastian seemed to be a little reticent about the whole thing, even at this point, but wasn’t opposed.  Just uncomfortable.  Abigail and Elliott, however, were keen to see what Emily had crafted for them.

They gathered up their items quickly; Sam and Alex just toweled themselves mostly dry so that they wouldn’t damage the truck’s interior, and would shower at their homes.  They and Haley departed, and Abigail and Sebastian waved before they took off as well.  Lysander removed the ribbon from his hair to scrub it with the towel as Elliott retrieved his clothes and shoes.

“I’ll hold onto these for you.  By the time you’re dry enough to wear this we would be back at the house anyway.”

“Good idea,” he replied, draping the towel over his shoulders and falling into step next to him.

Lysander briefly considered showering there, but changed his mind and simply put those clothes back on, packing fresh clothes to change into at Elliott’s.  Backpacks filled with the necessary items for an overnight stay at the cabin, they grabbed helmets and walked outside, as there wasn’t need for full riding gear for that distance and slow speed.

As the still-damp man stripped in his partner’s bedroom for a shower, Elliott was in the kitchen preparing something to eat.  He was a much better cook than a baker, but he still knew a few recipes, and with the berries still as sweet and fresh as they were, and the bits of pastry he had left, a cobbler would be just the right thing, and fast enough to make as well.  By the time it went into the oven Lysander strode out, dressed in warm clothes with a towel over his shoulders again, and a hairbrush in one hand.

“That already smells great love, what is it?”

“A cobbler of sorts.  I can do something fancy when we have more time and resources.  This should cook quickly, I think.  Here, sit, let me get that for you.”  He took the hairbrush and sat down on the piano bench, with Lysander reclining back in the computer chair.  His hair didn’t normally get in a tangle like that, but it was a quickly-solved problem, and Elliott tied it back when he finished.

Lysander almost purred with satisfaction, still leaning back.  “That feels so nice.  I know you do that for me a lot, but this time it was _really_ good.”

Kissing him on the top of the head, Elliott got up to check the food, which was getting close to being done.  “Here, set out the plates and glasses, I’ll fetch a bottle of wine.  From what I sampled, I think that… _this_ one will pair nicely.  Yes, this will do,” he confirmed, pulling out a bottle with dark-red liquid.  Uncorking it and pouring two glasses, he set the bottle on the table and pulled out the cobbler.  It had come out to his satisfaction, and Lysander looked quite impressed.

In short order they had a plate each and were seated at the table.  Lysander took a large mouthful, chewed twice, and stared off at nothing as he tasted all of the flavors.  “Oh my gods, love, I am going to marry you just for your cooking.”  He dropped his fork and almost turned the color of his hair, squeaked in embarrassment, and hid his face in his hands.  Laughing, Elliott reached over to pull his hands away, smiling.

“That is possibly the best compliment you have ever given me, and a valid reason for such a suggestion.  Thank you, dear.”

Smiling faintly, though still feeling a little silly, Lysander retrieved his fork and dug into his food with gusto.  He was right, he _had_ needed both the calories and something hot after that exercise, and a little wine didn’t hurt, either!  Swirling the wine in his glass as he drank the last of it and refilled it, Elliott laughed to himself that all that this scene needed was some lit candles for a properly romantic atmosphere, but then, he liked it like this; the two of them sharing a simple meal and each other’s company.  He wanted every night to be like this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	54. Building a Little Character

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //The "uncle" part of their conversation was partially inspired by a text my stepsister and I received the other day when my sister asked us what we thought of being aunts. In a response that is very telling of not only the way I think, but the way we converse, I read this just as I was waking up, so I read "aunt" with a "c," not an "a," and had a moment of "well, f*ck you, too" until I realized my error. Then it took me another few seconds to figure out what "aunt " meant. I don't wake up very well in the morning...//

“You look thoughtful, love,” Lysander remarked, his arms around Elliott’s waist from behind as he examined himself in the bathroom mirror after their shower, “what’s on your mind?”

Elliott ran his fingers over his chin, wondering if he needed to shave, and decided that he should be as presentable as possible.  He applied shaving lather and reached for his razor, replying carefully as he worked.  “Simply remembering our meeting with my parents.  These last few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity and surprises.  I had not expected to run into them there, and to have them immediately suggest a stage adaptation was nearly staggering.  I’m certain that they’ve passed the details on to Charles by now, but I’ve not heard from him yet, so I must assume that he’s busy with family and work.”

"Who-  Oh, that’s right, your brother.  I’ll meet him one of these days.  What’s his part in all this?”

Rinsing off the razor, Elliott continued to shave as he explained.  “He is the one that is inheriting the business, and he handles quite a bit of it for mother and father, allowing them to do more of the ‘face’ work.  He also has an excellent eye for literature and playwriting, though he doesn’t quite have skill for creating on his own.  However, he is quite talented at taking one work and converting it into another format.  As such, once our book is published it will go to him so that he can ‘script’ it.”

Done with his shave, he rinsed and dried his face, and Lysander leaned over to kiss his cheek, enjoying the scent and texture.  He took his earrings as his partner handed them to him, affixing them quickly and handing over the hairbrush so that Lysander could work out the tangles for him.  “Okay, nifty,” Lysander remarked, “some of that conversation the other day is making a bit more sense.  You said he’s got ‘family’ stuff going on, too?”

“Correct.  He and Jeanette had their firstborn last year, and while I understand that everything is less hectic than it was at first, things are still busy.”

“Aww, you’re ‘Uncle Elliott.  How cuuuuuute.”

Elliott took the hairbrush with an amused sigh and returned the favor.  “And you could potentially be ‘Uncle Lysander,’ you know.”

“Heh!  True, that’s…  Hunh…”

“Hmm?” Elliott inquired, the brush already sliding through his partner’s hair without resistance.

“It’s…  That sounds weird.  But I kinda like it.  Never thought I’d hear _that_.”

Perplexed, Elliott set down the hairbrush and kissed his neck.  “Why not?”

“I’m an only child, thought I mentioned that before.  And I don’t have any cousins or whatever I can recall, other than Alex, so…”  He shrugged.  “Dunno.  Just stuff that never occurred to me.  It’s…”  He handed over the ribbon so that Elliott could tie back his hair.  “It’s kinda happy and sad.  I’m happy that there’s so many new things and opportunities open to me, but it’s also a bit scary at what I nearly missed out on…”

Elliott saw him staring at the mark on one wrist, already losing himself in memories that he knew weren’t healthy.  He took his partner’s wrist and kissed the mark, relieved to see that Lysander had smiled at the gentle act of affection.  “That’s better.  Yes, things very nearly went badly, but that is in the past.  Look to the future.”  He smiled warmly, pressing a hand to Lysander’s face.  “Such as today.  We will take a large step toward success soon, and I for one am excited.  Put aside the memories of pain, smile with me.  Let us dress and be off, this is something to which we should not be late.”

Agreeing and kissing him, Lysander rummaged in his backpack for this change of clothes and proceeded to put them on as Elliott reached into his closet.  Ten minutes later they were ready to go and, hand in hand, strolled without hurry to Haley’s house.  The door was open with the screen door shut, and before they could knock Emily called out to them to let themselves in.  They weren’t the first ones present, as Haley and Emily lived there, and Sam was right next door, so he had arrived quite a bit ago.  Alex was the next to arrive, even though he wasn’t necessarily “needed,” and Abigail was next.  Half an hour after Lysander and Elliott had walked in Sebastian finally showed up, looking a little tired but still interested, though he tried not to show it.

Emily bounced in place with pent-up excitement now that all of the band was present.  “Yay!  This is going to be so amazing!  Okay, so, I’ve got all of your clothes, and I had good measurements, but I’ll need to do a bit of last-minute hemming and touch-ups and everything.  I’m so glad you liked what I had in mind, they were just…  Just so…  You guys, you know?”

She giggled and seemed almost close to vibrating with glee.  Lysander noticed Sebastian looking a little hesitant and smiled, punching his friend in the shoulder.  “Mate, we all had creative input on our designs, it’s not like you’re going into this blind.”  Sebastian half-shrugged, replying that Lysander was the actor, not him, and that he didn’t know how to wear the masks that his friend did.  “You tabletop game, though,” Lysander pointed out, “and I’ve seen you get into character.  I think you can do this and make it brilliant.  And worst case, Sam and I will be up front, so you can hide a bit if you need to.”

This seemed to ease his mind a little, but he still looked a little nervous.  Emily returned with an armful of clothes that she set on top of the coffee table around which everyone was standing or seated.  This pile contained Sam’s, Elliott’s, and Lysander’s clothes, and she dashed off to get Sebastian’s and Abigail’s outfits.  With a chuckle and a shrug, Lysander volunteered to be the first to try his outfit on and pulled his shirt off over his head.  As he did so he laughed at himself and shrugged in apology.  “Ah, sorry, all, I keep forgetting.”

Sam thought it was quite funny and grinned at him.  “Forgetting what?  That we’re not as eager as you to get naked at random?”

Shrugging again, Lysander refrained from undressing further.  “Well, that too, but I’m comfortable with myself as well as the rest of you, and I’m used to changing clothes in a mixed environment when doing theater, so I sometimes forget that other people have a bit more modesty and all than I do.”  He apologized again and offered to use another room.  Alex didn’t care, as not only was he not changing, but he was used to locker rooms.  With the last two sets of garments in her arms, Emily offered the use of both her and Haley’s rooms, as well as the kitchen for changing.  Abigail took her clothes and went to Haley’s room, and Sebastian with his to Emily’s.  Sam went to the kitchen, smirking that they should probably separate Lysander and Elliott as who knew what they’d get up to otherwise.

Rolling his eyes, Lysander grinned at his friend.  “What, you mean in front of my cousin, his girlfriend, and her sister?  You think very highly of my seduction abilities.”  Further, there wasn’t much room elsewhere, and he wasn’t bothered by changing in front of those people.  Neither was Elliott, strangely, but it was mostly due to Lysander’s presence.

He changed from his clothes into something quite similar to what he was already wearing, but much nicer.  The same went for Lysander, who was the first to finish changing, and laced his boots back up before bouncing to his feet and examining himself from a few angles as he tugged at and smoothed out the fabric.  Elliott fastened buttons with swift efficiency as he did every day, quite enjoying the feel of the silk under his fingers.  A black shirt and trousers were elegant, complemented by a waistcoat in a dark, gemlike blue, with a handkerchief in a brighter color folded neatly into the pocket.  He looked quite dashing, and he felt as though he could wear this every day.

Lysander wore something quite similar to his usual clothes as well, also clad in black trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, with a short-sleeved shirt in crimson unbuttoned over it, also in silk.  Emily had chosen the best materials possible for this work!  Elliott also noticed that they both had delicate accent work in their own colors on the cuffs as well as the sides of their trousers, giving just a little definition without being gaudy.

“You are brilliant, Emily,” Lysander whistled, looking very impressed, “this fits perfectly, I don’t think I’ll need any adjustments.”  He held still as she checked him from head to toe and everything else possible with swift efficiency, scrutinizing with the eye of a professional seamstress.  She spoke her thoughts aloud as she tugged, prodded, shifted, and other –ed things, ensuring that everything was just so.  They were, and she was ecstatic.

Smiling at his partner (and just how handsome he looked!), Elliott moved over to the mirror to inspect himself, very much liking his reflection.  “I must also provide my accolades, and express my sincere apologies for not seeking out your services in the past for my tailoring needs.  This looks and fits splendidly.”  As he made a mental note to do exactly that in the future, Sam wandered out from the kitchen, in the middle of donning a blazer in bright, warm yellow, which perfectly suited the one that most of the town had dubbed “The Sunshine Child.”  The same as the other two, his shirt and pants were also black, with the pants in denim instead of the material the others had properly matching his style.

“Dang, you two are looking posh up in here.  We’re starting to look like proper musicians.  Hell, I _feel_ like one already.  You were right, dude,” he grinned at Lysander, “funny how what we needed was an actor to show us how to be better musicians.”

Sebastian walked out, adjusting his outfit, and remarking that they were already good musicians, this was them becoming performers.  “And I feel no hesitation in seconding you, Sam, this actually feels and looks good.”  Sebastian was both tall and slim, providing a bit of a challenge in making something that complemented both without looking baggy or making him look like a caricature.  She had done splendidly, however, as the long, double breasted coat went from his neck to his hips, but where it stopped in the front it continued in long panels on the sides and back.  Elliott noticed as he turned to look in the mirror that it had been also pinned back just above the waist to ensure an elegant fit, as well as to break up the empty space on his back.  A deep hood was secured to the back of his collar, which was likely added at Sebastian’s request.

Even more impressed, Lysander whistled again.  “Damn, ‘Bas, you look like a modern-day Wizard.  That looks wicked cool.”

Not expecting the garments to look or fit this well, or to be complimented, Sebastian was surprised at first.  “Really?  It _does_ fit really well, and the hood feels natural.”

“I’m not feeding you a line, that works for you,” Lysander nodded, looking him up and down with a performer’s eye, “you’re slim enough that the straight, harsh lines make you look dignified, and I wouldn’t think it out of place to see you carrying a heavy spellbook hanging off of an arcane-reinforced chain.”

Before he or Sebastian could converse further, Abigail stepped out and gasped with obvious delight.  “Oh.  Sweet.  Yoba.  _Sexy butler._ ”

Lysander smothered laughter as Sebastian turned, about to be annoyed.  “What-  Butler?  Now you’re just-“  Now he noticed her outfit, and he stared, open-mouthed.  Like everyone else, she had black as a base, but where they had chosen trousers, she had opted for a pleated skirt that came down to around mid-thigh, with fishnet tights, and boots that had purple laces which very nearly met up with the bottom of the skirt.  A stylish corset in violet was topped by a bolero jacket in a slightly darker shade, and the entire ensemble was quite enough to make most of them somewhat weak in the knees.  She had also gone with varying shades of violet for her makeup, but tastefully so, further accenting the “gothic” look that she favored.

Everyone saw that Sebastian’s brain had somewhat overloaded from the visual stimulus, so Lysander helpfully nudged him, smiling supportively and encouraging him to speak his mind.  After a few seconds, Sebastian managed a dazed “you look great,” which satisfied Abigail enough for her to hug him happily and kiss him on the cheek.  He was the only one to not see that her lipstick had left a nearly-perfect imprint in sparkly amethyst, but they figured he’d notice it eventually.

Haley moved for the first time since they had begun changing, hefting her camera, examining them with scrutiny.  “Excellent.  I can work with this,” she remarked, taking a good look at everyone, “I’ve got a space set up in my darkroom to get the portraits done.  Just give me a moment to set up the tripod and we can get started.”

This was what finally brought Sebastian back to reality, and he hastily protested the idea of pictures.  Lysander again offered brotherly support and put a hand on his shoulder.  “We need promo materials to post around so people know to come looking for us, mate.  We’ve got a good window for it; close enough that people won’t lose interest before we perform, but also not so close to the event that it feels rushed or half-assed.”

Still uncomfortable, Sebastian mumbled that he didn’t like his photo being taken, and Lysander replied with his usual grin that it wouldn’t be his.  When Sebastian looked even more puzzled, Lysander asked him who he was.  “I’m Sebastian, you twit, what are you-“

“No, I mean, who are _you_?   Right now.”  He tapped his friend on the chest for emphasis.  “You don’t normally dress like this, so who does?  What is he like?  How does he think and move?  When he stands on that stage how does he do it?  _That_ is who I’m talking about.”

This had been directed at Sebastian, but everyone else mentally took a step back to consider these words.  Elliott had already been familiar with these concepts thanks to them writing their novel, but it was still strange for him to apply such filters to himself.  Yes, who was he?  _Who_ was _he_?  The person that dressed like this, he was similar to him, yes, but this wasn’t something that Elliott would usually wear.  Who would?  How would they walk and talk?  Much like him, likely, but still…different.

Sebastian took all of this to heart and it showed.  He pulled the hood over his head and glanced at the mirror again, but his posture and demeanor changed; the slouch and distant indifference were gone, replaced with silent, stoic confidence.  The violet eyes that met Lysander’s hazel ones were now composed and thoughtful.  “I should probably be more annoyed at how right you are so much of the time, but I can’t argue with results.”

Laughing and applauding, Lysander suggested that Sebastian be the first to go to Haley.  “But nobody tell anybody what you’re doing for your photo, I want to see what we all do separately.”  He disappeared into the other room for a few minutes, and when he returned, Abigail immediately went in next.  Elliott looked at his partner with approval, which was noted and returned.  “You like what you see, love?”

“You remind me of a cat in that you can make yourself comfortable anywhere and in anything, my dear,” he replied, reaching over to pull him close so that he could nuzzle his ear, “and you look simply dashing.  You are a gallantly roguish figure in that, and I am quite certain that between you and Samson the audience shall be swooning en masse.”

Giggling at this and his touch, Lysander carefully hooked his fingers in Elliott’s collar and kissed him.  “Then we best keep you hidden behind that piano, love, else we will be suffocated underneath thrown undergarments.  It’s a good thing we’re leaving these clothes here ‘cause they might not survive me trying to take them off of you later.”

Sam made exaggerated gagging noises, grinning at them, and laughed when Lysander stuck his tongue out at him and grinned in reply.  The lead guitarist darted around Abigail when she emerged from Haley’s room, eager to get his portrait done.  Exchanging a quick glance of conversation, Lysander nodded in the direction of Haley’s room and smiled, squeezing Elliott’s hand; he would go last, Elliott would go after Sam was done.  He took a deep breath and entered Haley’s room when Sam exited, trying to get into character for himself.

Fiddling with settings, Haley looked at Elliott as he strode in, glanced at the LCD screen on her camera, checked the spot where he would stand, and nodded to herself.  “Okay, you’re the tallest one here, so getting you framed right is gonna be trickier than the others without screwing up balance and scale, but I already accounted for that with everyone else.  We should’ve had you go first, but Sebastian needed to get that out of his system before he lost his confidence.  Okay, stand right…there.  Good, let me check, okay, you’re in frame.  Find your pose while I make a few other adjustments.”

Pose?  Well, it was a staged photo, not intended to be natural, but he was at a loss for just how he should-  No, he was going about it all wrong.  It wasn’t him, it was the person who would wear this sort of thing.  Who was that person again?  He put his elbow in his hand and adjusted his glasses thoughtfully as he shifted his weight a bit to one foot, and looked up at a gasp from Haley.

“Oh, don’t move, that’s perfect.  You just need something a little…”  She bit her lip as she tried to articulate what she was thinking.

Elliott wasn’t certain, either, but he tried to view himself from the outside, to see how it was that he stood, and he felt a rather superior smile slide into place; not quite arrogant or condescending, but still a look that said, “yes, I do make this look good, and am well aware of it.”  He heard the shutter snap a few times, and she quickly reviewed what she’d taken.  “Freaking yes, that’s perfect.  You just look so…  Well, hot.”  She laughed and shrugged.  “I dunno how to say it, you’re the author.  But this is totally the persona that fits your look.  Nailed it!  Now go send in your boyfriend so I can get this all finished.”

As requested, he strode out, and since Lysander had been waiting by the bedroom door for his turn he was able to duck right in for his own picture.  A few minutes later, he returned as well, followed by Haley, who was reviewing everything but refusing to let anyone else see just yet.  “These are going to be perfect,” she said, looking very pleased, “I’ll send off the full raw files to you in a little bit, Abby.  You sure you won’t need anything else?”

Waving a hand dismissively, Abigail shook her head.  “Nah, I’ve got the editing software I need, and it’s gonna be a bit abstract anyway, so I’ll be doing a lot of stuff by hand.  I’ll send back the finished poster tonight; I’ve got a lot of energy and ideas, and I already had some stuff put together because I kinda knew what we were doing.  I’ll be doing two; the basic ‘glamour’ image that’s just the band and name that we can use and post anywhere, and with the date and location of the gig.”

Haley agreed to this, commenting that she was going to go into the city the next day to do physical prints and then begin posting them.  Lysander asked for a copy of the finished files as well, as he still had logins for a number of sites and forums where not only would musicians and performers hang out, but people who were looking for bands to watch.  Abigail made a note to do so, then giggled when she glanced at Sebastian.

“Hey, Sebby, did she take your pic of that side?  ‘Cause that’s a good look for you.”  Her meaning was unclear at first, then he noticed himself from the other side in the mirror and turned extremely red.  Haley admitted that she had been tempted to do so, but had refrained and photographed him from the other side instead.  Seeing that they were all done with their errand for the day, Lysander got up to hug Emily, thanking her for her hard work.  Emily was caught by the spontaneous urge to dance, and naturally, Lysander couldn’t resist.  Smiling warmly and fondly, Elliott watched them whirl around for a few moments until Sam, wound up already as it was, got caught up in the energy and grabbed Lysander around the waist in a firm hug, actually lifting him off of his feet for a moment.

“We’re going to do this and it’s gonna be fantastic!” Sam whooped, breaking free to punch the air victoriously.

They split up again to change back into their original clothes, carefully putting the new outfits into garment bags; Emily would keep them until their gig, just in case.  Lysander stretched and remarked that he wanted a quick smoke, and everyone else followed suit, still feeling the residual effects of the successful afternoon.  They sprawled out on the lawn, in the shade or the sun as their preferences ran, and Lysander stood downwind of everyone as he patted a pocket and grimaced.  With a huffed chuckle, Sebastian pulled out his own, and after removing one and lighting it, offered both the pack and lighter to his friend.

“I owe you another pack, mate, I’ll refresh your stash this time,” remarked the copper-haired man as he returned the lighter and pack.  Sebastian took back the items and exhaled a stream of smoke that smelled faintly of strawberry, clove, and tobacco.  Lysander furrowed his brow as he thought of something.  “Heh, I never did get that answer.”  At the other man’s noise of inquiry, Lysander grinned around his cigarette.  “Remember when you gave me that lift home the first time months ago?  I wondered what it would be like kissing someone who smoked these.”  He glanced over at his partner, who was in the shade near him, enjoying the scent.  “Though I suppose I could ask Elliott, he’s got a bit of experience in this category by now.”  He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and smiled, awaiting an answer.

Some months ago Elliott would have been too embarrassed to answer, and possibly only a month ago would have just said something to mollify him and take the spotlight away.  But now, after all of this time, spending so much of it with him, learning more about himself and becoming a different person, he felt a surge of mischief as he remembered something.  He tapped a finger to his chin, pretending to consider this question carefully.  “You are correct, dear,” he replied, “perhaps I can give you the answer that you seek.”

To his partner’s surprise, he reached over to take the cigarette with elegant fingers, put it to his own lips, and inhaled slowly and deeply.  He wasn’t experienced with it, but he had observed Lysander do this many times before, so he had a fair idea of what to do.  It wasn’t that bad, actually.  Regular cigarettes smelled noxious and unpleasant, but this was actually sort of nice, and he could see how he was fond of this activity but not addicted to it.  He heard a muted series of giggles from his friends as he exhaled, which became all-out laughter when he took Lysander by the chin and kissed him, letting it linger a bit.  He stepped back and inhaled from the smoldering stick again, looking and feeling extremely pleased with the baffled look of silent confusion that Lysander wore.

It took a couple of tries for Lysander to figure out how words worked.  “…That was quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever done and I think I need that smoke back.  That was an amazing call-back and variation on it.  I am properly impressed.”

Elliott was feeling good about it, but this praise made him smile as he returned the cigarette.  “It was that good?”

Chuckling and shrugging in the direction of their friends, he took a drag on it himself, wondering aloud how nobody else suddenly needed a smoke as well.  As the breeze rustled leaves and ruffled their hair, Lysander stared off at nothing, smiling with contentment.  “Well, how’s it feel, everyone?” he asked, flicking off the ash and putting the half-consumed cigarette to his lips again, “in a couple of weeks we’re going to be live on stage.  You’ve finally achieved your dream.”

“Well, you got ours, it’s time he got his,” Abigail remarked, gesturing in Sam’s direction, “though I guess that that was Elliott’s dream more than yours, wasn’t it?”

Sharing another silent conversation, they squeezed each other’s hands, and Elliott put an arm around Lysander’s waist.  “That is true.  It was my dream, but it became a shared one, as though it was not his desire to write a novel, it was his desire to help me succeed in my efforts.  So in a sense, yes, it is ‘ours.’  I have learned so much working alongside him, and I know without any doubt that I could _not_ have done this alone.  I was looking in the wrong directions and places for inspiration and story.  He showed me the true path and I am now enlightened.”

Sam again made the exaggerated gagging sound, to the amusement of everyone, but Lysander shrugged instead of taking mock offense to it.  “I dunno if I can quite claim to be that amazing, but yeah, I learned a lot, too.  I’ve always been on stage doing everyone else’s stories, so when it came time to make one myself I knew the mechanics of it but not the details.  I knew how a story should flow, how characters should act and interact, whether a thing would work or not, but getting those ideas in the first place?  I had none of that.  He had all of the ideas, I just helped make them work.”

They chatted and relaxed for a while longer until it was getting close to dinner time, at which point they all departed for their respective homes.  Elliott went with Lysander back to the farm, however, as was part of their routine now, and it felt absolutely natural.  Continuing to converse idly, they mostly enjoyed each other’s company and the mid-fall warmth.

“What do you want to do for dinner, love?” Lysander asked, and Elliott almost didn’t hear him at first, lost in his own thoughts.

“Pardon?  Oh, well, let’s see what you have and we’ll go from there.”

“Nifty.  You look distracted, something on your mind?” Lysander asked, opening the door and sitting down to remove his boots.

“You asked something similar this morning, and the response is similar,” Elliott replied as he put his backpack in the bedroom, “simply thinking of the past, present, and future, and what it all means.  I’m not exactly overwhelmed, but when I pause to think about it I’m amazed at how far I’ve come.”

Lysander greeted him in the kitchen with a hug, resting his head against his shoulder.  “You’re not the only one.  Everything’s just…better.  I’m happy, finally.  I don’t hurt, I don’t feel alone, I actually feel like I’m useful.  Needed.  I didn’t know how bad I wanted that until I met you.  Thanks.”

With a happy sigh, Elliott relaxed into the hug, winding his partner’s hair around his fingers.  “For all that you have done for me, I shall give you everything.  Never again shall you be wanting, my dearest.”

Their moment was interrupted when Xander padded in and yowled at them, likely for food, but possibly attention.  Lysander gave him an irritated look before turning back to Elliott and kissing him warmly.  “Well, all I want now is a nice meal and then the chance to curl up with you the rest of the night.”

“My earlier attire and actions did not leave you ‘hot and bothered’ as you claimed to be?” Elliott asked as he examined the pantry.

Lysander’s smile was fond as he shrugged, leaning against the counter.  “They are, and I am, but…  Right now, I just feel good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	55. Setting (Up) the Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Sorry if the quality of these posts has been off the last few updates, been all kinds of blah and stuff lately, and while I could take a break, I'd rather not; the schedule does help a bit, and this is kinda therapeutic in a way.//

“Ready, love?”

Elliott snapped shut the clasp on his helmet and checked the fit of his gear before mounting up behind his partner, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders as he got into place.  “There, I am ready.  We have everything we’ll need for when we get there?”

“Yup, I double-checked, it’s all in your backpack, and Emily has our clothes.  Well, hold on, here we go.”

Putting _Morgenlied_ into gear, Lysander pulled away from the house, onto the road, and then picked up speed as he took the turns necessary to get onto the highway.  Elliott was already comfortable riding behind him like this, and he opened the visor just a little bit to allow in some of the breeze.  The first portion of their route was familiar, but as they reached the city Lysander took a route to a place he’d never been.  How strange, he’d lived there for so long and had been nearly everywhere, but once more, Lysander found a way to surprise him.  Finally, Lysander turned in to the parking lot of a small pub, but pulled around the back at a different entrance.

They dismounted and removed their helmets just as their friends pulled up, Sebastian and Abigail riding together, Sam, Haley, and Alex in the truck, and Emily with their gear and clothes in her car.  Lysander strode over to the back door and let himself in, much to their surprise.  He propped the door open and waved them over.  “I’m allowed to do this, it’s okay.  C’mon, start unloading, gimmie a sec to get out of my stuff really fast.”  He and Elliott discarded their riding gear in just a minute, ducking back outside to assist with moving their equipment.  “Gear goes to the right against the wall with the posters, clothes to the left with the rack you can hang them on.  I saw my parents’ car back there, so I’ll go track them down.”

Elliott straightened as he saw someone partially-familiar walk up.  “Heya, Pick!  Beat you to it!”

Turning around and lighting up visibly, Lysander went over to hug the elder Morgensonne once he had put down his instruments.  They exchanged greetings and pleasantries as their friends gathered around, as only Elliott had actually “met” him before.  Arthur wore a green polo shirt, simple jeans, and scuffed but clean sneakers, clearly the person from whom Lysander had inherited his highly causal manner of dress.  Lynn arrived from the stage, striding over in chunky heels, wearing a warm yellow three-quarters sleeve shirt and a brown camisole, also clad in jeans, though boot cut to her husband’s straight cut.  She was where Lysander had inherited his sense of style!

Seeing her son, she smiled with delight and changed course to intercept him, taking his face in both hands and examining him with interest and satisfaction.  “Sweetie!  You are looking fantastic, living on your grandfather’s farm has been wonderful for you.”  Elliott smiled to himself, approaching to finally meet his partner’s parents, wondering if this is what he had felt when they had talked with his parents earlier that week.  She noticed his arrival and gave him the same look she had Lysander.  “And speaking of wonderful things, you must be the handsome young man that Lysander introduced to us a couple of months back.  Oh, if only we had known then, I would have given Liz _such_ grief about it so much sooner.”

Getting the feeling that they were quite casual with their greetings as well, Elliott still thought it best to be a bit formal at first, just in case, and offered a hand in greeting.  He was surprised at how enthusiastically and firmly Lynn returned it, then Arthur.  “I am very pleased to make your official acquaintance.  Although I confess to being grateful that you were not aware of my connection that readily.”  He offered a wry smile.  “Mother is not overly fond of surprises.”

Fists on her hips, Lynn laughed with raucous amusement, a sound that Elliott had heard so often from his partner.  “She gets over things quickly.  Even after that time that we pranked her by installing poles all over the stage and had my students dancing on them.  Tastefully dressed, mind you, but I will never forget her face.”  Elliott gaped openly at her in muted horror, remembering that incident and shocked that not only did he finally have a face to put to the culprit, but just to whom that face belonged.  Laughing again, Lynn grinned at him, noting that his expression somewhat matched his mother’s at that time.

“By the light, that was _you_?” he asked, finally finding his voice, “mother was furious about that for a week!”

Lynn didn’t seem bothered by this fact and waved it off.  “Only because she didn’t know who did it, and then because she did.  I didn’t damage anything; I’m sassy but not malicious.”

Curious, Sam began to express a thought to Lysander, which his friend interrupted.  “I never said that she didn’t, I just deflected the question.”  He recognized Sam’s thoughtful look and warned him against considering it further.

“Already done, dude, your mom intimidates the hell out of me.”  His look changed, though still thoughtful, and asked why Arthur had called him “Pick.”  Same as he’d explained to Elliott during the video call, he had been quite the slim sort when growing up, and had been playing guitar for as long as he could remember.  Lynn reminded him that while she and Arthur had met Elliott, they didn’t know the rest of his friends.  Laughing and apologizing, Lysander introduced the rest of the group, though Lynn gave Alex a strange look until his name was mentioned.

“Alexander Mullner, is that you?” she asked, then grinned even more widely, “ha, it is!  You’ve got Clara’s smile.  And your father’s eyes, but yours are so much gentler.”  Alex replied that he was aware of their relation but not any meetings.  “First, call me ‘Lynn,’ or ‘Aunt Lynn’ if that’s more comfortable for you, and second, you were only a baby, so you won’t remember it.  Heck, I barely remember, all babies look the same.”  At everyone’s look of surprise she shrugged without shame.  “Oh, don’t give me that look, I’m a mother, I get to say it.  But regardless, you grew up into a handsome, successful man, and I know that my cousin would be so proud of you.”  The athlete nearly beamed at this praise, and Elliott found himself mirroring his smile.  Little wonder that Lysander was such a thoughtful, caring soul if these were the people who had shaped his life.  Though they wanted to converse further, they still had to set up, and they dispersed to take care of their respective duties.

As they began to scatter, Lynn took another look at Lysander and gasped.  “Sweetie, what happened?  It looks like you got caught on something pretty bad.”  Elliott turned to see Lysander looking shocked, and realized that his partner had never mentioned any of that to his parents.  Lost in his thoughts as he tried to figure out what to say, the copper-haired man traced the scar on his neck with his fingertips.  Reaching out to him, Elliott put a gentle hand on his arm, and Lysander met his eyes with relief.  Nodding, Lysander bit his lip.  “I…  Something happened last year.”

Eyes going even wider, Lynn was quick on the uptake and shook her head.  “Don’t worry, sweetie, if you thought it was important you’d have told us, but this seems to be something that you’re not comfortable talking about yet.”

Almost hesitantly, Lysander touched Elliott’s hand on his arm, thinking quietly.  “Actually, if you and dad have time after the gig tonight, I’ve got a few things to tell you.”

Feeling relieved that Lysander didn’t want to avoid the subject, Elliott stepped in.  “ _We_ have something to tell.  I was unable to support you during the first telling of this tale, so I will make amends for that time.”  Lysander’s relief and gratitude were obvious, and he promised to tell his parents everything after the show.  He wasn’t the only one, as though Lynn still looked concerned she was no longer worried.  Activity resumed as they moved and set up equipment as and where it was needed.

Quite a bit had already been done, surprisingly, leaving Elliott and Lysander little to do other than check their own instruments.  As Lysander got his bass plugged in and adjusted, Elliott dodged and stepped over cables and stands to reach the piano.  It had been so long since had played on a piano that wasn’t his, but there was little personal calibration needed to gain familiarity with it.  Presently, Lysander sat next to him, facing the other direction with Resonance in his hands.  It was already mostly in tune, needing only a few changes.

Suddenly feeling playful, Elliott began playing Lysander’s song, though with a brighter tempo and in a major key.  Lysander’s smile perfectly matched his own, and he stepped in with rhythmic chords, supporting the song.  The next pass they traded places, with Lysander providing the melody and Elliott following with lyrical runs and flourishes.  The third time they played in harmony, balanced between each other, trading the melody back and forth.  This was brilliant!  Elliott lost himself in the music with his partner, and when the song ended, he almost jumped in surprise to feel a hand on his shoulder.  Shifting to see who it was, he was greeted by that very familiar grin, worn by Arthur.

“Welcome to the family,” he said, and before Elliott could figure out a reply, he stepped away to go check on something with one of his own band mates, who had volunteered their services in helping the new band get on their feet.

A touch on his other shoulder made him turn again, but it Lysander’s smile that he saw this time, and it was filled with adoration rather than the fatherly one that Arthur had worn.  “They really do like you, love.  I haven’t seen them look this happy in a while.”

“All that I have done was say hello and to warm up with a song,” Elliott replied, somewhat perplexed.  With a soft chuckle, Lysander leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“You’ve done so much more and you know it.  It’s been a while since I was doing this well, too, and they can see that.  They also know about our book, and I saw the way that mom looked at us when you stepped in a bit earlier.  They can see that you genuinely care, and you’re talented and successful.  They’re proud of you, too, just as much as your own parents are.”

Considering this, he took Lysander’s hand and kissed his fingers.  “I have no reason to doubt your words.  Mother has already accepted you as an adopted son of sorts, so I should not be surprised that yours has done the same for me.”

They shared another smile before going back to preparing for the gig.  Already familiar with the piano, Elliott got up to assist one of Arthur’s bandmates in running the last of the audio cabling and securing it.  He looked around for Alex and saw him talking with the other professional, who was showing him how to manage the sound controls.

“Here you go, sorry, I missed your name?” asked the shorter Asian woman as she handed him a cable, “I’m Jen.”

“Elliott, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She smiled at him and taped the cable in place while he plugged it in.  “You too.  I don’t know what you’ve done for Lys, but thanks, we’ve all been a bit worried about him.”

Taking the tape to secure a different cable, Elliott gave her a puzzled look.  “Pardon?”

“He sits in with us now and then, but we haven’t seen him in damn near a year.  I don’t know what happened over the winter but something went down and he pretty much dropped off of the face of the planet.  He would message Art and Lynn now and then, but they didn’t hear much back from him until late spring or so.  They were pretty worried, but we all know that he tends to withdraw hard when something goes bad, so we all figured that we should just let him work through it.”

Elliott wasn’t certain at first how to reply.  “You are correct, he did have an…incident last year, something that scarred him deeply, in many senses of the word, and on many levels.  He has been coming to terms with that moment over time, and I do allow myself some credit in assisting him with that recovery.  But I will not claim it all; he possesses great strength of body, mind, and spirit.”

She stood up and dusted off her pants and hands, looking around to ensure that everything was up to her standards, and nodded.  “That he is, he’s always been a resilient kid.  No,” she shook her head, correcting herself, “he’s a young man, and a fine one at that.  You two are really good together.”  She offered him a friendly smile, putting her hands on her hips.  “His song, you know that like you’ve been playing it forever like he has.  You sounded _good_ together, and watching him play next to you, you can see it, you two just synch up just right.”

“I…  Thank you.  He means the world to me, and he has been an equally bright light in my life as much as I have been one in his.”

Smiling again, she nodded with satisfaction.  “Well!  I’d love to gossip a bit more, but I need to do a couple of last things before you all go live.  ‘Scuse me.”

She departed, and Elliott helped move cases and other items that wouldn’t be used to the back of the stage while everyone else finalized their calibrations.  Shortly after that, they all filed backstage to get changed.  Everyone took the dressing room, but Abigail elected to change in the women’s restroom, as though they _were_ friends and weren’t going to be strange or lecherous, she wasn’t quite comfortable enough around them to do that just yet.  Lysander looked a bit distant and thoughtful while he changed, a bit of a surprise given what they were about to do, but everyone left him to his thoughts.

Sam and Sebastian checked themselves one last time and got up to leave, and Elliott moved to follow, having inspected himself as well.

“Love, wait, I need to…”

Elliott paused at Lysander’s request, and saw Sam winding up to snark on something.  He decided against it, however, when Lysander gave him a look of patient exhaustion, and the yellow-clad man understood and left, closing the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Lysander hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.  “Tonight with mom and dad…  I…  I don’t want you to be caught broadsided by anything.  So…”  He trailed off, and Elliott offered the impression that whatever had been occupying him was something he’d not mentioned previously.  Nodding, he continued.  “Yeah.  It’s…Allen.  I’ve never talked about him much.  But what you should know is that he was one of my oldest friends, I grew up with him.  And…”  He paused again to swallow and take another breath.  “We were each others’ first.”

This was new information, and Elliott gestured for him to continue as he considered his partner’s words.  His words were somewhat empty, as though he were reading from a script, and though he tried to speak with casual indifference, Elliott could tell that these memories ached.  “We didn’t know anyone else we could really ask, and neither of us had the confidence anyway.  We were good enough friends, so we experimented.  It was no big deal, we were learning things and took care of each others’ needs for the time being, and then we got older, dated other people, and his family moved away.”  He went quiet for a moment, apparently recalling that event, then cleared his throat and continued.

“We didn’t see each other again for several years, until he was accepted to the same university in Zuzu City.  And as I said before, we picked up our friendship again, and after a while I asked to take it further.  You know the rest of the story from there.  Mom and dad know that we were friends when we were young, and that we hooked up in college, but not anything else, or about the…incident.”

There was a lot that Lysander hadn’t told his parents, little wonder that he was worried about talking to them.  Offering a warm, supportive hug, Elliott offered his observation.  “He was more than just a companion, he was a dear friend and lover, and meant a great deal to you for many reasons.”

Nodding, Lysander rested his head on Elliott’s shoulder.  “Yeah.  I’m trying, but I’ve never gotten over him or what happened, and I don’t know how.”

“Put it out of your mind for now, we have business to attend,” Elliott said, kissing the top of his head, “we will address that problem later.  _Together_.”

The smile that Elliott wanted to see returned, and the guitarist kissed him with relief and took his hand.  “You’re right.  Time to focus on the music.  Let’s go be brilliant.”

As they left, they saw their friends already gathered together.  Sam once again tried to tease his friend, but Lysander grinned and told him to shut up, which made the other man laugh.  He inquired about everyone’s state, and got varying replies, but the consensus was both nervous and excited.  Arthur walked over and offered encouragement, the proud father watching his children grow up.  Further reinforcing where he’d got a number of his traits, Lysander cheekily sassed his father, who rebuffed it with the same grin as he ruffled the younger Morgensonne’s hair.

“So I’m not allowed to be proud of you and offer you the benefit of my decades of knowledge and experience?  I see how it is.  Well I’m going to be positive and supportive and you’re going to like it, young man.”

Smirking and laughing, Lysander replied with, “fine then, be useful,” to which his father nodded, “fine then, I think I will.”  Arthur returned his attention to the group, giving them one last bit of advice.  “Now, this venue might be a bit strange at first, but you’re all quite lucky; it’s a pub, yes, but it’s got a reputation for decent musical entertainment of varying styles.  It’s also large enough that you won’t feel crowded but not so large that your sound will get lost.”

He met each person’s gaze, taking their hands and holding them all firmly for a couple of seconds, lending strength and stability with his smile.  “Just remember your set list, be confident, and _have fun_.  And I do mean it, I’m proud of you.  Everyone here has worked hard for this.  People come here specifically to hear new and interesting things, so do what you need to in order to get yourselves mentally in the right headspace.  Marcus will assist Alex with recording the sound, Jen will assist Haley on the video equipment.  I’ll pass the results to Robert this week and he’ll clean up and mix everything at his studio, and I’ll get a copy back to you as soon as it’s all done.”

This news left Sam literally staggering, but it didn’t dampen his enthusiasm.  Rather, this added to it, and whooped with glee.  “We’re doing it.  We’re really, _finally_ doing it, and we’re going to have a professional recording of it after it, too.  Art, you and your buddies are freaking _awesome_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	56. Opening Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //...I went clubbing last night. I'm going to bed now. *Faceplants.*//

Elliott smiled as he watched Lysander get “into character.”  It was so natural for him, as simple as putting on or taking off a coat.  His smile was now flirty and dangerous, and he managed to convey a swagger even when standing still.  Everyone else noticed this and did their best to mimic it, to find their own “character,” but only Elliott had complete success.  The musician in red checked the clock, took a quick look at the audience, and gave his friends a grin of enthusiastic delight.

“It’s showtime.”

That swagger manifested itself fully as he walked out, not bothering to look back because he knew that they’d be right behind him.  Sam almost didn’t follow, but a soft tap on his shoulder from Elliott brought him around, and Abigail playfully punched him on the arm.  The two of them giggled as they continued their mock fight, then grabbed Sebastian and pulled him along with them.  This had been practiced earlier, all for the show of it, but even so, it didn’t seem that Sebastian was acting.  Elliott was the last to step onto stage after them, offering a warm smile and an amused shake of his head at his friends’ antics.  They all split toward their instruments, and Elliott’s fingers lightly danced across a few keys when he reached the piano.  Once he sat down, those flickering notes became a rolling, flowing melody.  Lysander was at his microphone now, and his timing was, as expected, impeccable.

“You wanted to see something new.  Something interesting.  And you came here to see us.”

Elliott couldn’t see the crowd the way that Sam and Lysander did, but he could hear the whispers and murmurs begin to ripple.  He felt a strange, exciting tingle begin on the back of his arms at this, which strengthened when Abigail joined him in a riff on a ride cymbal and Sebastian joined the song, building it together with him, harmonizing.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here, because we are something new,” Lysander continued, with a daring smile in his voice, “but I’ll tell you now that if you want something interesting you’ll be disappointed.  Because we’re amazing.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Elliott saw Sam very nearly leap over his microphone and grab it, his own smile energetic and radiant.  “You all are brilliant, and we are The Elements of Sound.  Now listen to our song!”

The final two musicians added to the song, and the circling, flowing introduction stepped forward, launching into their first piece, full of vibrant energy.  The audience heard and felt it, and they reciprocated it, sending that energy back to the stage.

_This…  This is what he lives for, what he has always tried to describe but always lacked the words.  I feel it now, I truly understand, what it means to stand upon a stage and lay bare your soul to the world.  It is both exciting and terrifying, I feel as though I hold the reins to a chariot that speeds ahead with abandon, able to control with just a flick of my wrists, but at the same time a subtle change in the wrong direction spells disaster.  This is amazing, and I feel privileged to be able to experience such a sensation._

He heard Lysander and Sam open with the vocals, harmonizing with each other, and he felt a rush of excitement scamper up his back and settle in his neck, tingling and sparking.  What a beautiful, vibrant sound!  Elliott felt no jealousy at their synchronization.  Rather, he reveled in what they were able to create together, something so much bigger than themselves, than any of them.  Almost as quickly as it had begun, their song ended, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.  Elliott almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of his racing heart.  They had done it!  Their set was not yet over, but they had _begun_ , they had finally taken that first, hesitant step toward the future, and they had succeeded!

The two hours of their set almost seemed to fly past, and Elliott reveled in every minute of it.  Everyone sounded even greater than they usually did, and he was certain that they all felt the energy that he had, the synergy between performers and audience.  The set list was mostly what they had performed at the Luau, with the addition of new songs that had been written since then, and everyone had the opportunity to step up and take center stage.  He had always been partial to the vocal battle between himself and Lysander, but the audience response to it this time…  He and his partner were in perfect synch with each other, complementing each other even as they competed, and the audience loved every moment of it.  How had Lysander ever walked away from this?

Finally, they paused before their last song, and Sam grabbed his microphone as Lysander put down the bass.  “This has been the best night ever, and you have all been the craziest best audience.  I love you all so much right now.  Yeah, all of you!”

Sound filled the room again, that of a delighted audience expressing their adulation and appreciation for a skilled performance.  Glancing over his shoulder, Elliott saw Lysander pick up Resonance and duck into the strap, removing the pick from the frets.  He plucked one string, just once, and that single note was a razor-edged blade that brought silence in its wake.  Curious and enthusiastic, the crowd waited with bated breath for what was next to happen.  Lysander gave them the smile that always made Elliott feel safe and loved, and he found himself mirroring it as his partner stood in front of his microphone.

“You have been magnificent,” he said, and everyone heard and knew the truth in his words.  “We could not have imagined a more welcoming reception.  You may be delighted to have seen us perform, but we are honored to have been able to play for you.  And because of that, we have one last song, something very special.”

Tears burned at the corners of Elliott’s eyes as the first notes of Lysander’s song began to waft from the instrument in his hands.  He remembered how much it had hurt him to hear it again when Lewis had played it, and to see him take it and make it his own here made him more proud than he could express.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his partner’s parents stand up straighter and share a look of amazed surprise, not having expected to hear this piece.  Elliott smiled to himself, sharing their happiness as Lysander continued.

“I started to learn the guitar when I was very young, and the first song that I learned was one that my grandfather taught me, which he had taught to my father before me many years before.  It has been a song that I have carried with me ever since, and when he passed away, I played it for him one last time.  I was unable to play it again for many years until I met my friends, and someone that is now someone very special to me.”  Elliott felt the eyes of the audience land on him, knowing that Lysander had looked in his direction.  It was obvious, of course, their vocal battle had clearly demonstrated that, and while he would have been completely embarrassed to have this attention earlier this year, now he relished it; _look at me, know that I am the one that has claimed his heart, that it is my arms into which he falls each night, that it is my smile and touch that he desires._

With the fond, loving smile in his voice, Lysander continued.  “With their encouragement I played it again, and they learned it as well, and I learned how special it was, how it could bring people together and make them smile.  Now, I will teach that song to all of you, and show everyone the love and happiness that I felt when my grandfather and I played together.  Listen and learn, the song of my legacy, ‘Stardew Valley.’”

His fingers had danced almost idly and without direction upon the strings, but now they strode with determination, and Elliott felt as though he had reached out his hand to everyone, the same as he had done for him, asking them all to dance with him.  Four bars into Lysander’s song Elliott joined in, walking with his partner, supporting him, and four more bars after that the rest of the band joined.  It was a sweet, almost wistful ballad, and Lysander had struggled with lyrics at first until Elliott had told him to write it the same way that they had the first time they had played together, a stream of consciousness exercise.  He had been uncertain at first, unsure of whether or not he liked what he’d written, but Elliott had reassured him, that those were the words from his heart, from deep within, and all they needed was a little polish and finesse.  These were the words he now sang without any hesitation, sharing his love with the world.

“Spring’s cool breezes call out to me, they sing the song I once knew.  Summer’s warm touch embraces me, like love I held once so true. 

“Autumn’s bright leaves fly on the wind, like words I never could say.  Winter’s pure snow falls silently down like tears when I left that day.

“Sapphire waves crash on the shore, topaz sands sparkle in the light.  Amethyst winds, obsidian hills, all memories lost to the night.

“Emerald forests so green and cool, the plains all gold like the sun.  My heart aches for what has been lost, the colors all blurred and gone.

“Some day I will return to you, and walk the valley again.  Alone together we’ll recall the places that no longer remain.

“My friends, my love, I call to you, a request I make from afar.  Reach out to me, please guide me back, to the land of the valley of stars.”

There was silence for a moment as the final notes faded away, but not because the song had been ill-received, it was that nobody wanted to break the spell and let the song end completely.  Hesitant applause started somewhere, then spread like wildfire across the room, culminating in deafening applause.  Sneaking a glance at the two guitarists upfront, he saw them take a sweeping bow.  Then, Lysander turned around and gestured to the other three, cajoling them to do the same.  Abigail and Sebastian appeared to be unsure about it, but joined their friends after Lysander waved them over a second time.  Elliott needed no further encouragement and took his place with the others, reveling in the sensation of a successful performance.  They had done it!

“We’re done for the night,” Lysander began, and waved a hand to indicate that he was not yet done, “but we’ll be here a while longer.  Give us a few to put a couple of things away and we’ll come on down and say hi.  How’s that sound?”  More applause met his question, and laughed as he set Resonance back on its stand.  “Great!  Just give us a moment, then.  For the moment, you can bother Haley in back there for info about us, as well as how to get in contact if you’d like to see us again.  Be right back!”

He waved one last time and turned to depart backstage, followed quickly by the rest of the group as they offered their own momentary farewells.  Once they were all safely out of sight, he laughed and bounced gleefully, hugging them all with a smile that split his face.  “You all were _amazing_!  But remember, like the Luau, the show isn’t over yet.  Get out there and mingle.  Talk, laugh, show off, whatever, but make a good name for not just _us_ , but _yourselves_ as well, okay?”  He hugged them in turn, giving Elliott a kiss as well.  “C’mon, let’s continue to be awesome.”

They returned to the main room and split up, filtering through the crowd and chatting pleasantly.  Several people wanted photos, and everyone, even Sebastian, was happy to oblige.  Elliott took readily to being a professional, though given his family’s business this really was a parallel shift for him.  For another half an hour they talked and socialized before they had to excuse themselves to finish some final business.

Sam was brimming with energy even at this point in the night, and was bouncing around with glee, sweeping Lysander up into it as well.  The copper-haired man hugged him and grinned at his friends.  “How does it feel to be pros now?”

Sam and Abigail resumed the impromptu dance while Elliott considered the question.  “It is strange but welcome.  I had never fancied myself as such in the past, yet I find the mantle of a performer to be a comfortable and pleasant fit.  I could not do it alone, no, but as an ensemble I feel quite at home.”

Nodding, Sebastian chimed in scrubbing his fingers through his hair and giving a surprised sigh.  “I’m the biggest introvert you’ve ever met, but this was a hell of a rush.  Even after we were done, and were walking around the crowd, I was okay with it, like I was someone else.  Like Elliott said, I couldn’t do this alone, but together it was a lot of fun and we sound great.”  He smiled, almost hesitantly, giving light to his violet eyes.  “I actually want to do this again.”

Arthur arrived from the other room, looking extremely pleased with things.  “Then you’ve got that chance.  Doug liked you guys so much that he’s offered a spot on the calendar next month if you’re interested.  The crowd got _bigger_ after you started playing, and he made a heck of a profit on sales tonight for it.”  He put his hands in his pockets and gave them the grin that they were so used to seeing on their friend.  “Also, the first round is on him; it’s his tradition for all new bands.  Congratulations, everyone, this was a hell of an opening night.”

It appeared that Sam’s energy had finally been spent, as he finally stood still, staring off at nothing for a moment, then unsteadily made his way to Lysander and hugged him as tightly as he could.  “…We really did it.  I…  I’ve dreamed of this forever, but it’s always just been that.  It’s thanks to you, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough.”

Initially surprised, Lysander’s smile was brotherly as he returned the hug.  “It was _your_ dream and _your_ drive, mate, I just provided the tools you needed to advance.”  He turned a little to include everyone else in that smile.  “And I can’t thank all of _you_ enough, either.  I left this city without any dreams or hopes, and you all gave me something to fight for, to live for.  …Which reminds me of unfinished business.  You guys get changed out, I’ll join you in a few and help break down the equipment.  I’ve got something to do first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	57. Confessions and Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I am having SUCH a blast with the new Red Mage class in FFXIV. I've not hit the new areas yet (still working Lysander up to that content right now), but holy CRAP is this class just his freakin' aesthetic. It's elegant and flashy, stylish and flamboyant, and I love being both a caster and a swordfighter. The only reason I've been able to keep up with my chapter output is that I have SO much downtime while sitting in the queues for the mandatory dungeons. DPS is fun but augh, the wait times! :D//

Joining them from the other room, Lynn gave her son a concerned look.  “You’re sure you want to go into this sweetie?  It’s been a great night and I’d hate for it to end on a bad note.”  Her attempt at a joke was met with a small smile but a shake of his head.

“No more hiding, no more running,” he said, looking between his parents, “you need to know.”

While the rest of the band got changed back into their normal clothes or broke down the equipment, the four of them moved to a quiet corner.  Obviously trying to be nonchalant, it was apparent to his parents and Elliott that he wasn’t exactly having second thoughts, but at the same time he wasn’t sure how or where to start.  In silent support, Elliott reached for and gently squeezed his hand, and this was the stability that Lysander needed.  Taking a deep breath in order to settle himself, he found the words he wanted.

"So, you remember Allen?”

“Yes,” Lynn replied, tilting her head to the side, “we haven’t seen him in a while, though, not since a while before you moved to Pelican town.”

Lysander nodded again.  “Yeah, well, it’s…  It was him and I, that is…  I figure that you already figured it out, but we’d already kinda been together for a long time, since before he moved.  It was mostly messing around, we weren’t quite ‘dating’ or anything, but when he moved back and came to university we met up again and decided to actually hook up.”

This was met with twin nods from his parents.  “I remember the two of you being pretty happy about it,” remarked Arthur, tapping a finger to his chin, “but you wanted to keep it a bit low-key.  As I recall, his parents weren’t quite open to same-sex relationships and he was worried of, well, things.”  He gave Lysander a look that spoke of a sudden realization, but his son shook his head and bit his lip.

“No, it wasn’t that.  It…  Shit, I didn’t think it’d be this hard the second time around…  The short of things is that we were pretty good together for a while, yeah.  But…  You two also know that I used to…  Screw it, I’m not gonna sugar-coat it, I was a total slut and slept with, like, _half_ of campus.”

“You were _not_ ,” Lynn rebuffed, firmly but gently, “you are confident in yourself and your desires, and you made that clear to your partners.  All that we ever asked was for you to be safe in your relations with others.  You had numerous partners, and that’s just fine.  That’s who you are and what you wanted to be, and it was _your_ choice to be so.”

A small smile found its way to his face, and it warmed even further when Elliott put an arm around his waist.  He sighed and continued.  “Well, either way, you two knew about that sort of thing, but he didn’t.  It’s not like I lied or tried to hide it from him, it just never occurred to me to mention it, and he began getting whispers and rumors from around university.”  He bit his lip and took another deep breath.  “He started to avoid me.  I didn’t know why, and when I asked him about it he just…said he needed a bit of space to think and stuff.  I’ve known him since forever so I figured that if he wanted it then he needed it, and he’d let me know what’s up when he was ready.”

“You two’ve known each other...over twenty years, haven’t you?” Lynn asked, looking surprised as she realized the length of time that her son and friend had known each other.

“Yeah, so I figured…yeah…”  Removing his sunglasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and bit his lip, trying not to cry.

Looking even more concerned, Lynn hugged herself loosely and shifted her weight to one leg, trying to be supportive as well as considerate.  “Sweetie?  Do you want to talk about this at a later time?”

He shook his head, inhaled deeply again, and continued.  “So eventually I was tired of the evasions and non-answers.  You both know I’m direct and don’t like people screwing around with me or my time.  But instead of trying to catch him alone, like at either of our apartments or whatever, I confronted him on campus.  Stupid _idiot_ , I shouldn’t have done that!”  Elliott squeezed him gently in a hug, breaking him out of his self-destructive recriminations, but he could feel him beginning to tremble with pain and self-loathing.  “…Sorry.  Anyway, it got…loud.  We began arguing and things got out of hand and I…  Gods, I’m such an asshole, I just took a swing at him and put him on the ground.”  Arthur and Lynn said nothing, gesturing for him to keep talking.  “We…shit happened and…  And I ran, I just had to…  Gods, I had screwed it all up and made him hate me and I hurt him, mom, I had always protected him and looked out for him and I loved him and I just _hit_ him for no good reason!”

He was shaking visibly now, barely able to fight back tears, and Elliott took the sunglasses from him, knowing what part of the story was next.  “I…  I ran back to my apartment,” he continued quietly, unbuttoning the buttons on his cuffs, “and I went to the kitchen.  Everything hurt so bad and I hated myself so much and I…  I…”  Unable to finish the sentence, he showed them his wrists, letting the scars tell the rest of the story.  Again the expressions were matched, with shocked gasps, but Elliott was relieved to see that they weren’t horrified at what he had done, it was because they understood his pain and why he’d hidden the last year from them.

Stepping forward, Lynn put a hand on his face and the other on his shoulder.  “Oh sweetie, you carried that by yourself all this time?  I wish that we could have been there for you.”

This warm kindness was apparently unexpected but still what he had wanted, and it was the final crack in the dam of emotions that he’d been trying to hold back.  Shoulders heaving, he sobbed and put a hand over his mouth to hold it back, still trying to be strong.  Simultaneously, Elliott and Lynn tried to hug and hold him close, to provide the comfort that he needed at that moment, and bumped into each other.  This produced a small moment of welcome merriment before Elliott stepped back and allowed Lynn to go to him, but still offered a hand in the small of his back, just a small reminder of his presence and support.

Crying into his mother’s shoulder for a minute, Lysander hugged her and allowed himself to finally feel and accept everything that he’d kept inside and away from them for almost a year.  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispered, “we’re all here for you.  We all love you, and understand why you did what you did.  All of it.  For what it’s worth, I don’t think Allen hates you.  Whenever you two were together he was always happy, and I’m sure that he still loves you, regardless of what happened.”

Slightly calmer, he nodded and stood up straight, taking a handkerchief that his father had offered.  He sniffed and wiped his eyes, feeling a little better as the older man put a hand on his shoulder.  “I understand why you chose not to tell us sooner, and I respect that.  And in a strange way, I’m glad that you waited, because there would have been nothing that we could have done to help, and we would have been worried and greatly bothered by it.  Knowing you, you’d have been beating yourself up as well because you knew that you were causing someone else trouble.”  He sighed and gave his son a kind smile.  “But your time in our old home has helped you change and heal, and you’re happier and more confident than I’ve seen you in ears.  You’ve also found someone who genuinely cares about you and has been a massive help in getting you back on your feet.”

His smile got warmer when he shared it with Elliott as well, looking quite happy for the both of them.  “Though apparently it goes in both directions.  You’re a published author now, and from what I’ve gleaned from Liz and Phil, they’re both happy with what you’ve done for Elliott as well.  I’m proud of you, Pick, you went through a lot and a very dark time and you’ve come out with your fire burning brighter than ever.”

Lysander sniffed one last time and caught his breath as Lynn took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead, brushing his bangs to the side to do so.  “It’s okay, sweetie, what happened is in the past now, and you’re still here, that’s what’s important.  We all make decisions that we regret later.”

Finally, there was that smile that Elliott ached to see, that always lit up the room!  Breathing deeply again, Lysander nodded, looking between the three of them.  “Thanks, mom, that means a lot.  I was worried about telling you two for the longest time because exactly that, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.  At the same time, it hurt that I felt like I was hiding something or lying to you.”  One last sigh and he was himself again, even if his smile was a little lopsided.  “I’m going to wash my face real fast and get changed out.  Be right back.”

Still concerned, but feeling nearly as relieved as his partner, Elliott watched him walk off and relaxed the rest of the way; the manner in which the other man carried himself showed that while he was a mentally tired from it all, he felt lighter for it.  He glanced over at Lynn when he heard a relieved sigh from her as well, and she put her fists on her hips as she smiled at him.  Yes, that was definitely where he’d inherited it, and like the effect his partner had on him, he felt warm and loved from it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have enough or the right words to say it, but until I do, thank you, Elliott.”  She nodded her head in the direction that her son had gone.  “He’s always been too strong, taking the weight of the world and the problems of everyone else onto his own shoulders and never asking for help.  He’s always tried so hard to look out for others and protect them, and refuses to let anyone do the same for him.”  Her smile got brighter and softer.  “You’re the first person he’s ever trusted enough to support him in return like this.  You have our respect and gratitude.”

He felt as though he had already made a decent impression with them over the video call, and more so earlier that evening, but it was now that he completely felt _accepted_.  It wasn’t as though they had indicated any displeasure with him until now, no, but he hadn’t felt as though he had properly earned anything with them.  Now, he saw the honest thanks in their eyes and heard it in their words, and he had felt Lysander’s relief in his touch.  Just as Lysander had allowed himself to open himself up to his parents, Elliott had allowed himself to internalize the knowledge that they really did consider him family now.

“And you both have mine, for raising someone like him,” he replied, feeling a rush of contentment, “were it not for his ability to show love for everyone and desire to help I’d never have finished my work.  I will protect and support him and his dreams at any cost.”

_So many times have I sworn this oath to myself, and I will do so to anyone and everyone to whom it concerns.  He has done so much for me and I do not think that he fully understands the scope of it.  One day I will show him just what it is that he has done, the life that he has saved and made worth living._

They all turned to see Lysander return from the restroom, looking like his old self again.  Arthur clapped Elliott on the arm and gestured at the dressing room.  “You get swapped out too, Elliott, Lynn and I will help the rest of the band break things down.  Meet us over by the bar when you’re ready.”

He nodded and followed.  “I shall, thank you.”

Lysander had just removed and hung up the red overshirt and smiled as Elliott walked in, undoing the buttons on the black one.  “Hey love, thanks for being there.  I needed that more than I thought I did.  Not because I was worried they’d get mad or anything, but that mental support.  You’re the best thing to happen to me in years.”

Removing his waistcoat and hanging it up, he was the next to undo a long line of buttons while the other man hung up his second shirt.  He heard Lysander sigh thoughtfully and glanced over to see him draw the thumb of one hand over the scar on the wrist of the other, and Elliott recognized the thoughtful look that he wore.  Fairly certain that he should go over and pull him from his thoughts, Elliott paused with his shirt only halfway unbuttoned.  When it didn’t seem that Lysander would come up from that line of thinking on his own, he moved to put his arms around him from behind, silently supporting him.  Lysander recognized this and turned a little in his hold to kiss his chin.

“It’s funny, isn’t it, how such a little thing defines so much of me now.  That one bad, selfish decision nearly ended everything.”  He sighed again, this time deeply.  “It worked out for the better in a strange way, but at the same time, it almost feels _wrong_ that I should benefit from it.  I don’t know,” he muttered, relaxing against and leaning into his partner, “I’m still a bit messed up, I guess.  But still, as terrifying as it all was and how much it _still_ hurts, I don’t think I’d change it.  You mean everything to me.”

He smiled weakly, shrugging into Elliott in a sort of half-hug.  “I’ve known you for what, less than a year?  And even so , this doesn’t feel like any other relationship I’ve ever had, even with Allen, for as long as we’d been together.”  His eyes went wide and he stepped away to hold up his hands.  “Not that I’m comparing you!  And not that I’d do something crazy like that again if something happened, I promised you, and it’s not that I hope something happens to you, I-“

Elliott almost couldn’t help himself keep from laughing at the sudden change in demeanor and attitude from his partner, and pulled him over to kiss him softly but thoroughly.  He threaded his fingers through Lysander’s hair as he ran a gentle finger over the edge of one ear, a sensation that he knew always left him tingling.  It appeared to work _quite_ well, as Lysander pulled away with a laugh, having begun to undo the rest of Elliott’s buttons.

“Sorry, love, I’m developing bad habits faster than I can correct them.”

They finished removing their “costumes” and began to change into their normal clothes as Elliott lamented that he felt helpless to do something about the emotional strife that he had experienced, as well as what he felt now, but it was exactly that what had helped to give him the qualities that he loved.  “And because of the same, had you not been through all of that I would never have met you.”  He fastened this trousers and belt buckle and pulled on his shirt, working on yet another nearly-endless line of buttons.  “So it is a strange dilemma in which I find myself glad for your past, and am displeased with myself for such thoughts.”

Lysander’s sigh was somewhat muffled as he pulled his usual shirt on over his head and tugged it into place.  “Yeah, it’s weird, but…  I guess moments that knock you down that hard and low are what let you appreciate the good things and fight for something better.”  Elliott quietly watched him stare at his reflection in the mirror and run his fingers across the thin white line that ran across one side.  Shaking his head, Lysander adjusted the ever-present guitar-pick accessories and put on his overshirt.  “I’m reminded of that every time I look in the mirror.  And it’s also strange that since we’ve been, well, intimate, I’ve not had this nightmare again.  Now I fear losing you.  What love does to a person, yeah?”

“It has done many things, and all of them wonderful,” Elliott replied as he stood, examining himself one last time, adjusting his waistcoat, and opening the door, “and likewise, I fear nothing else in this world now, save for the thought of losing you.”  He smiled with mischief as something came to him.  “My heart and mind are now clad in armor that your devotion has forged for me.”

He knew that Lysander was secretly weak for this sort of flowery speech, and his blushing giggle was exactly the response that he had wanted.  Lysander kissed him on the cheek as he walked by, grinning.  “I did not think that you could get any cuter.  That was so adorably goofy and I love it so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	58. Amusement and Autographs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I really liked writing for Lynn and Arthur, they are so much fun, and they help give so much more context and depth to Lysander. But still, it's kinda sad just how many of my own characters I introduced into this "universe." Just...really? I might as well have written my own story not set in this game world if I was gonna do that, right?//

Due to the rather lengthy conversation with the von Morgensonnes, as well as getting changed, there was very little left to do by the time they reached their friends.  They helped stage everything by the back door (it was a bad idea to load it in their cars until they were ready to leave!) and put back the pub’s own equipment where they had found it.  Standing to one side, Haley held a camera in her hands, grinning as she watched the screen and replayed some of the video that she’d taken.

Lysander sneaked a quick glance at it before she finished packing it all up and smiled at the footage as well, offering that he and Elliott would stack her gear for her so that she could take a seat with Alex.  She thanked him for it, punctuated with a quick peck on the cheek.  Emily had just completed inventory of everything that she had brought and nodded with satisfaction, remarking that they had looked even better than she had expected onstage.  “Those costumes looked _so_ good up there in the light like that, you all stood right out and looked so classy.”  She nearly bubbled with delight that once people had found out that she was the one who had designed their costumes they had been grabbing her business cards.

Elliott missed half of the conversation, as he had been putting a few last things into a case, and handed it to Emily to stack with everything else.  Apparently it had been about her own career plans as a seamstress and clothing designer, as she wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but she was optimistic and upbeat about the possibilities.

With everything packed and stacked, Emily joined everyone else at the tables, but Lysander paused to look around, smiling faintly.

“You seem happily lost in thought, dear,” Elliott observed, gently running his fingers down the other man’s back.  With a half-shrug, Lysander sighed with satisfaction.

“It’s been so long since I had been on stage in any form, and this…”  He paused to gesture in the direction of where they had just performed.  “It was better than I could have ever imagined.  Doing theater was fun, and I loved telling a story like that, and I’ve got great memories of playing here with dad’s group, but none of those compare to tonight.  This was _our_ night, and it was _our_ material.”  He hugged himself and leaned into Elliott, the smile softening and lighting up his face.  “Sam, Abby, and Sebastian created something wonderful, and you and I helped give them the hand that they needed to pull themselves up.  I’ve finally found that feeling I’ve ached to have again.  Heh, I could die happy right now I suppose.  Love, not like that!” he gasped as he saw Elliott’s expression of pain, “I…”

_When will I no longer worry for your physical safety and mental health?  You have advanced so far, yet there is poison in your thoughts, leeching out when you least expect it to taint your words.  My dearest, I know that this is a battle you must fight on your own, and I will be there to bind your wounds and ease your pain, but please, for the both of us, let this war within you end._

“I think I understand the context in which those words were spoken, yet their existence is disturbing,” replied Elliott, brushing the back of his fingers across Lysander’s cheek, “there is still a lingering pain in your mind, though most of it has been excised.  I am glad to see that you are healing and finding your fire again, but I will not hide my concern.”

Sighing again, Lysander nodded and took Elliott’s hand to kiss his fingers.  “Thanks, and I understand.  Just remember that you gave me something to live and fight for, I won’t throw it away.”  The smile returned, and his hazel eyes were warm and grateful.  “I gave you armor, you’ve given me a sword.  Together we’re unbeatable.”  He laughed and took Elliott’s hand.  “Now let’s go mingle, I’m totally itching for a beer now.”

_His word is his bond, so I trust and believe what he has said.  I could see it in his eyes, in his smile.  He sees and fears it as well, but he works to overcome it.  That is all that I can ask for now, and I will be satisfied with it._

Leading the way, Lysander waved to everyone as they approached and took a seat across from his mother and next to his father.  As such, Elliott sat next to Lynn but across from Arthur, and accepted a freshly-poured drink before the older von Morgensonne stood with his own.  “Now that we’re all here, a toast to The Elements of Sound, for a successful opening night, and to many more in the future.”  His smile was an exact copy of the one that Elliott had seen only moments earlier.  “Congratulations, all, you’ve made the biggest and hardest step of your careers.”

Cheering and applauding, the group shared their enthusiasm with each other in varying ways, from simple hugs to friendly fistbumps, and other forms of enthusiastic delight.  Everyone broke off to their own conversations, in which apparently they’d already been engaged before Elliott and Lysander had arrived.  Only paying the barest attention to the others, Elliott put his chin in his hand and sipped his drink, watching and listening with amusement as Lysander talked eagerly with his mother, and noticed that Arthur wore a similar expression.

“So!  How’s the farm going, sweetie?” she asked, halfway through her beer already, “you sent us a few pictures and updates, but that was a month or two ago.”

He grinned and pulled out his phone, as he had many more photos taken since then.  “Not sure if I mentioned it, but I finally got around to putting in ‘fun’ stuff, things I really wanted.  Got the sunflowers planted and they’re doing _great_ , I’m really happy with them.”

“Oh!  Gimmie,” she giggled, taking the phone and getting a closer look, “ooh, those did come out nice, you always did love sunflowers.  I could never keep them alive,” she sighed, passing back the phone, “I grew up out there but couldn’t grow anything.  I’ve got a TOTAL brown thumb.  Good thing you got your gardening genes from your dad.  Speaking of, I’m out, Art, pass the pitcher.”

As requested, Arthur handed over the pitcher, and Lynn refilled her drink, topping off everyone else’s while she was at it.  Lysander reached over to squeeze Elliott’s hand, sharing a smile with him.  “And I might be able to get in roses soon, too.  Apparently they’ve got some nice roses at his parents’ place and we might be able to get a few cuttings.  I already know a place that a rose hedge would look fantastic, with all sorts of different colors.”

Lysander’s parents gave Elliott an interested look, and he ducked away a little, taking another drink to hide his blush.  “Ah, yes, well, mother has cultivated some rather lovely blooms, and I am certain that they would do quite well at his home.”

Squeezing his hand again, Lysander nodded and pulled up some other photos.  “Everyone’s done well, when you get down to it.  Sam’s done great with his music and the band, Sebastian has made great strides with his coding, Abby’s taking classes online.  So’s Alex.  I’ve been running with him in the mornings for cardio training, but he’s also going back to school, too.”

With a happy gasp, Lynn clapped quietly and turned to Alex.  “Oh!  Alex, sweetie, Lysander told me that you’re taking college courses.  How’s that going for you?”

Not expecting to be called out like this, Alex was surprised but happy to share his own success.  “Pretty good, Mrs.-  Err, Aunt Lynn,” he corrected himself, earning a laugh from her, “I just had finals and passed all of my courses.  I was talking to Marcus about some other courses I can take, and I’m waiting to hear back from the gridball recruiters I talked to the last time I was in the city.  I’m going to see if I can get started at the collegiate level.”

This produced giggling applause from Lynn and an approving smile from Arthur.  “I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Alex,” he remarked, resting his arms on the table, “I admit that when your parents got together a lot of us were pretty worried for your mother, and didn’t think that you father was a very nice man.”  He grimaced and wrinkled his nose, another gesture that was familiar to Elliott.  “Hell, when we first met he said something that I didn’t like at all and I put him on the ground for it.  He split my lip but I still walked away better than he did.”

The knowing grin that Lysander and Alex shared made Arthur raise an inquisitive eyebrow at them both, and his son took it upon himself to share _that_ story.  “It seems to run in the family.  Alex said something that I took offense to in our first conversation, and I took a swing at him.”  His grin went all the way across his face.  “Though he got the better of me, ‘cause I knocked him down, but he damn near knocked me _out_.”

The reaction between his parents was split: Arthur with an eye-roll and head-shaking sigh, and Lynn with a full, raucous belly laugh.  Alex rubbed the back of his neck and gave his cousin a weak smile.  “Yeah, sorry about that, I hit harder than I should have.”

Lysander waved it off with indifference.  “S’okay mate,” he replied, “I started it, you were well within your rights to finish it.  Hell, I was giving you shit the entire time I danced around you, so I’m not the least bit surprised that when you had the opportunity you tried to punch a new hole in my face.”  He flashed Elliott a snarky but warm grin.  “On the upside I got the chance to nap on my future boyfriend for a while, so it worked out.”

Returning the smile, Elliott thought back to that day.  He remembered the fight, but didn’t know that Lysander had actually been taunting his opponent.  It wasn’t out of his character, to be honest, and it matched with his mental footage of the more agile man dancing and dodging around the much stronger one.  His smile softened as his thoughts drifted to the aforementioned nap, how he had felt such relaxed contentment at Lysander’s casual and confident ease at resting upon him.  And the way that he had reached for his hand while asleep…  That feeling would stay with him forever.

Lynn was very nearly finished with her second drink and sighed, stating that she was happy that he hadn’t been injured but asked him to be a bit more careful about future altercations.  Then her eyes crossed a little as she thought of something and gave Lysander a very concerned look.  “Though speaking of safety, you and Elliott _are_ using protection, aren’t you?”

In the middle of a long drink, Elliott coughed and sputtered at her out-of-the-blue question, staring at her in shock and blushing almost as red as his partner’s hair.

_WHAT?  I-  She just came right out and asked it in front of everyone!_

Completely unperturbed, it was Lysander’s turn to sigh and roll his eyes.  “Of _course_ I am, and we’re monogamous now, so it’s no big deal.”  This did nothing to mollify her, and Elliott was of the distinct impression that she was usually direct by nature, but extremely blunt when mildly intoxicated.

Pursing her lips, she gestured emphatically at her son.  “That doesn’t mean a damn thing until you put a ring on it and you know it, young man.  I don’t have to worry about unexpected grandchildren but that’s no excuse not to be careful.”

Lysander finished his glass and poured another, not the least bit bothered by either her statements or the unrestrained giggling from Sam and Abigail.  “Chill, mom, I’m the only guy he’s ever shagged so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Completely embarrassed, Elliott put his face in his hands, but relaxed at little from a supportive, fatherly pat on the shoulder from Arthur.  “Like I said, welcome to the family.  She has fewer filters after she’s had a couple of drinks, but she always means well.”

Nodding emphatically (and somewhat exaggeratedly, thanks to the alcohol), Lynn gave him a warm, fond smile.  “I wouldn’t give you grief if I didn’t care, and if you’re anything like your parents then we’ll get along splendidly.”

Less embarrassed, Elliott removed his hands but put one to his temple to rub it wearily.  “As I recall you appear to be fond of pranking my mother and pushing her buttons on a whim,” he observed, to which she laughed and gave him a grin that showed almost all of her teeth.

“If she can’t take it then she has no business being in show business.  I help keep her sharp.”

_Oh gods, so this is the true nature of the family into which I might marry.  I understand him so much better now._

His other hand joined the first in rubbing his face.  “In only one evening I have already learned so much about Lysander and the source of his personality and mannerisms.”

With a similar, amused laugh, his partner promised to make it up to him that night, and glared at his mother preemptively, causing a fit of giggles into her beer.  “And _yes_ , I’m going to wait until I get home.  Even though I _do_ know all of the places around here to sneak off for a bit.”

While Abigail and Haley were simply giggling, and Sebastian and Alex wearing amused smiles, Sam had laughed himself to tears at this exchange, and had clumsily slid off of his chair and under the table.  It didn’t stop him from continuing to laugh, though it did sound like he was close to passing out.

“You okay, mate?” Lysander asked with a careless air as he glanced under the table.  At the gasped reply of, “can’t…breathe…” Lysander shrugged again.  “Well Alex is the one that knows rescue breathing, so if you pass out you’re his problem.”  Alex made a face at his cousin, replying that it only mattered if he was actually drowning.  “Do his own tears count?” he asked, nudging his friend with the toe of his boot.

Wordlessly, Arthur offered him a handkerchief (Elliott wondered how many he had!) and got up to get another pitcher for their table.  When he returned, Sam had dragged himself out from under the table with Abigail’s help and got back into his chair, wiping his eyes with the handkerchief.  They all had a few more drinks but could feel themselves begin to wind down, the energy of the evening finally fading, and the fatigue of the day beginning to set in.  Empty glasses and pitchers were set on the counter for Doug to take and wash, and once the tables were clear they helped to straighten up and clear out what they could.

In less than five minutes, all of their equipment was loaded into Alex’s truck or Emily’s car, and Alex ensured that the load was secure before getting out of the bed and closing it behind him.  With a languid, satisfied stretch, Lysander looked at the sky and asked his cousin if he minded going home a little slower than usual or hanging around for a bit.  “It’s nice out and I wanna stop off somewhere first, also have a nice ride home.”

Alex told him not to worry, that he could offload it all himself without any problem; it could all go just inside the door and be put away properly the next day.  Agreeing to this, Lysander handed over the community center keys and began saying goodnight to everyone.  Haley and Sam got hugs, as they were riding in the truck, then Emily, who was taking her car back with their costumes and her sister’s camera gear.  Sebastian and Abigail had just finished zipping up their jackets and were reaching for helmets and gloves, and he nodded to his friend.

“You’re heading to that place we went when you got _Morgenlied_?”  Confirming this, Lysander asked if he minded, as it really was his spot to be alone.  “Nah,” the other rider replied with a smile, “it just means that we’ll have to message each other before we go up so we don’t interrupt anything.”

This was met with a laugh and a hug, though Sebastian did his best to pretend to be annoyed by it.  Abigail hugged the taller man from behind, complimenting his singing, and cheekily reminding him not to stay up too late being naughty with his partner.

“Don’t you keep Sebastian up with the same, then,” Lysander replied, “he sleeps in late enough as it is.”

Watching their friends depart, Lysander yawned and stretched again before going back in to put on their riding gear and say goodbye to his parents.  He smiled at his partner, who had already donned his equipment and was in the middle of putting on his gloves.  The blonde man seemed a bit surprised to see Lynn give him a look of approval, but he smiled, recalling her earlier remark about wanting them to be “safe.”

She put on her coat and smiled happily at both of them.  “Well, you both certainly make that look dashing, and I’m pleased to see that you’re both using more than one type of protection.”

Elliott once more gave her a look of surprise, not only because he’d had a similar thought just a moment earlier, but the manner in which she said it and the innuendo involved.  Her son verbally prodded her, although playfully, inquiring as to whether or not it was his father that would be driving.  She confirmed it as she zipped up her coat.  “But that’s ‘cause we took his car.  I’m honestly happy for you, sweetie.  For you _both_ ,” she clarified, giving Elliott that motherly smile that he was already beginning to find familiar, “we’ve known Liz and Phil for years, and she’s actually been in a better mood than I’ve seen her in ages.  Not that she’s a grump or anything, but something about her overall attitude has changed a bit.”  She snapped her fingers as she remembered something else and dug into her purse.  “Oh!  That reminds me…  Would it be gauche of me to ask for the authors’ autographs?”

With a chuckle, Lysander rubbed the back of his neck as Lynn handed a very nice pen and a hardcover book to Elliott.  “Dangit, I was hoping to surprise you with a copy.”

He opened it to the dedication page and paused for a moment for the right thing to say, and wrote (though with difficulty in those gloves), in his elegant script, “To those who supported us from afar, we give to you our dream,” and signed his name, very nearly using Lysander’s last name.  Lynn brought up its usage on the cover, and he made a wry face.  “It is…a long story.  We had not quite meant for it to imply…”

Unsure of how to end the statement Elliott trailed off, but Lynn saved him the need to do so with a shrug.  “Well, it’s nice to know whose name you’ll be keeping.  And ‘Elliott von Morgensonne’ sounds rather nice, I think.”

Shocked, he dropped both items, but apparently Lysander was expecting it because he caught both with ease.  Holding up his hands, Elliott almost stammered as he tried to explain.  “Ah!  That wasn’t the intention, Mrs. Von-“

“ _Lynn_ , sweetie,” she interrupted, still wearing that smile, “and I’m only partially giving you sass, it really does sound nice.  Regardless, though, we support whatever decisions you two make, whenever you make them.”

_She…  I was not expecting my mother to so readily approve of our future bond, but to have such acceptance from Lysander’s parents already is something that I did not anticipate.  From the way in which she said it, it is as though she not only assumes that it will happen, but soon.  I wonder, did they think the same of Lysander and Allen before?  Or is our relationship different?  I almost do not want to know the answer to this question, but at the same time, it would give me insight into many things._

Finished signing the book as well, Lysander returned both book and pen.  “Thanks, mom, but we’re not rushing into anything.  I mean, we haven’t  even known each other a full year yet.  This isn’t some kind of terrible romance novel or fairy tale.”

She nodded, as though this confirmed something for her.  “Good.  If you _were_ talking about marriage this soon I’d be concerned.  Dating and getting to know each other is important.”

Agreeing with her, Arthur zipped up his coat and fished his keys from a pocket.  “Just keep in touch a bit better from now on, okay?” he asked, being kind, but with the slight edge of a finger-wag to it, “we do worry about you, Pick.  We’ve done your best to give you the space you need, and after what you’ve been through we understand, but at this point you’ve got no excuse.”

Lysander nodded, wearing the smile of someone who has been gently admonished but not browbeaten.  “I will, and sorry about the distance and silence.  Regardless of my reasons it was still rude of me.  I should have at least told you guys _something_.”

Reaching out to touch his face again, Lynn brushed his bangs aside.  “It’s okay, sweetie.  That’s all done and over with.  Time to move on and make a change for the better.”  Lysander nodded and squeezed her hand, then broke away to grab his helmet and lead them outside.

Hugging both of the younger men, Arthur patted Elliott on the back as he did so.  “Great to finally have met you, Elliott.  Thanks for being there for him where we couldn’t.”

He wasn’t certain how to reply to that, and blinked in surprise when Lynn took his face in both hands, the same as she had done for her son earlier, and kissed his forehead.  “Take care of him.”

Lysander appeared to be as surprised as his partner, but Elliott recovered quickly and smiled gratefully.  “I shall continue to do so to the best of my abilities.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	59. Shared Experiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //So I was working on this update when the cat brought in a mouse, right around 1 or 2 in the morning. After playing hide-and-squeak for a half an hour I just gave up, and said "sod it" to go to bed and finish this when I woke up. I've not seen any viscera, so it's still alive somewhere in my home, so I'm now off to do housekeeping whilst keeping a look out for anything suspiciously fuzzy.
> 
> DAMN IT, CAT.//

They put on their helmets and checked the fit of their gloves as they watched Lysander’s parents depart.  The red-clad rider mounted up and glanced over his shoulder.  “Well, hop on, love, I’ve got some place I wanna show you before we head home.  If you’re still up for anything, that is.”

With a smile, Elliott got into place behind his partner.  “It has been a long day but I am not yet fatigued.  And I am curious to see what it is that you have in mind.”  He put his arms around Lysander, getting settled, and felt _Morgenlied_ shift as the other man took it off of the kickstand, then the rumble of the engine turning over.  Elliott left his visor cracked just a bit; the night was cool, but the breeze through a slit was refreshing.  Their route was slow as they went through the city, turning onto different streets and pausing at lights, but as soon as they got onto the highway, they picked up speed and flew.

Such an amazing experience.  So dangerous yet so free.  Elliott tried not to shift too much as he looked about, silently gazing out across the night-darkened landscape, gently illuminated by the moon and what stars could be seen behind the lunar brightness.  He heard the wind, listening to it whistling and singing as it swept past them, a wispy soprano to the vibrating tenor of _Morgenlied_.  Feeling no concern about their route, speed, or other drivers, he allowed himself to almost daydream, simply feeling and just _being_ , experiencing the ride and internalizing it.

He implicitly trusted his partner to carry them safely to their destination.  It never at any point crossed his mind that something would happen with him at the helm, so to speak.  As such, he reflected and exuded the same confidence that Lysander did, enjoying the touch of holding him, protecting and being protected by each other.  Idly, he watched their path of travel, but he’d never been this way before, so it was completely alien to him.  The road wound away from the city and up, then somehow back.  Eventually, they arrived, and Lysander slowed enough to stop and put down the kickstand and turn off the engine.

Getting off first, Elliott stepped aside and removed his helmet, shaking out his hair, then put his gloves inside of his helmet and set both atop _Morgenlied_.  He turned around as Lysander did the same, and paused to stare, almost not hearing his partner’s chuckle at him.  The city spread out across the horizon, a vista of lights and steel.  The stars were much more visible here than in the city, but not quite as much as back home.

…Home.  So he considered that little shack on the coast of the sea a home now.  He smiled warmly as he thought about this, looking at the place he used to live, running a hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts and feelings.

Lysander stepped over to him and folded his arms across his chest.  “It’s a heck of a sight, isn’t it?  This is where Sebastian and I went after I picked up the bike.”

Feeling a moment of mischief, Elliott nudged him with a smile.  “Ah, so this is the place where you nearly made out with him?”  He almost felt bad for his jest, as Lysander put his face in both hands, making a sound of embarrassed regret.

Now feeling a little bit of regret himself, he reached over to put a hand in the small of Lysander’s back.  “I am only teasing, dear,” he reassured, “I believe that I am allowed a bit of that tonight after having your mother inflicted upon me all evening.”

This produced a small smile, and Lysander leaned into him, sighing.  “It’s okay, besides, I still feel stupid about it, sorry love.”  Curious, Elliott pressed him to know why he felt that way, as it had been accidental and a one-time thing.  “I…  That’s the problem,” Lysander replied, looking downcast, “given the chance, if he ever offered, I’d be hard-pressed not to take him up on the offer.  It’s not like he ever would, so that’s not a question, but if anyone at all ever did, I mean…”  He clenched a fist and set his jaw, and Elliott said nothing, simply listening and considering his words.  “ _Damn_ it, damn _me_.  I love you, so much it hurts, but I still have these urges, and I…  I just feel like such a total asshole for it.  I’m trying to hold myself back so much, and I’m terrified that I’m going to act on those urges and do something dumb that’s going to hurt you and-“

“Stop,” Elliott gently interrupted, “dear, look at me.”  Lysander nodded and bit his lip to hold back tears, leaning into Elliott’s finger on his cheek.  This sort of confession would have triggered jealousy and mistrust in so many other people, but for Elliott, he felt pleased at his companion’s candor and honesty.  He saw how much it hurt him to say it, not because he feared insult or rebuke, but because he thought that such thoughts would hurt _him_.  Ever as always, his thoughts were of others!  Firm but kind, Elliott continued.

“You are a man of passion and emotion.  You act without thinking, trusting in your instincts, and your first thoughts are always of others.  I almost never see you do anything unless it benefits someone else as well.  If someone were to make you an offer I know that you would consider it but likely not follow up on it.  If you do?”  He shrugged and smiled warmly.  “Well, that is something that can be discussed should it arise, just as we did the other night.  I will not worry about something unlikely to happen.”  Brushing Lysander’s hair out of his face, Elliott kissed his forehead.  “And do not let our relationship prevent you from sharing your fire and love with your friends.  I am not given to jealousy or irrational fits of speculation.”  His smile became amused as he poked him where he had kissed him a moment before.  “If I am to be annoyed it is because I wish that you were a bit more selfish.”

Silent as he thought about this, Lysander took a deep breath and nodded, sharing the smile.  “…Thanks, love.  But…I feel selfish all the time, though.  Like, mom’s the third person who’s insinuated that we’d get married eventually, and I know that she was just teasing, but it’s still something that scares me.  It’s a stupid fear but…”  He shook his head, trying to dislodge a thought.  “I’m worried about disappointing you or something bad happening or…  At least dating like this gives you a way out if I screw up, and that’s almost worse because it gives me the option to run away and I hate that, I hate myself-“

“ _Stop_ ,” Elliott commanded, seeing his partner begin to enter a downward emotional spiral and cut him off before he could get any farther.  “You are causing yourself needless anguish.  It is an idea that I view with trepidation as well, and likely for similar reasons.”  He sighed and kissed his forehead again.  “However, it is something that I will save for later consideration, as I am enjoying the time we have together _now_.  I am learning more and more about you, about the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.  As I once told you before, it is the journey that I desire, not the destination.  I want to take this slowly and learn all that I can about you before we dive into anything permanent.  Like…  For instance, I have never asked when your birthday was, and I do not recall you mentioning it.”

He stared off at nothing as he searched his memory for this information and came up completely blank.  Huffing a chuckle, Lysander hugged him and remarked that he hadn’t mentioned it, and when Elliott was about to ask when it had been, he shrugged and chuckled again.  “Already passed.  It was between the Luau and the jellyfish migration.”  Surprised but not hurt, Elliott asked why, as they could have done something to celebrate, but Lysander sighed and rested his head upon Elliott’s shoulder, squeezing him in a fond hug.  “That’s kinda the reason why.  I love being on stage and working alongside others, but I don’t like being the center of attention for myself.  It feels weird.”  He shrugged with indifference.  “I like celebrating stuff, but not for _me_.  Make any sense?”

Elliott agreed with this, wrapping a lock of hair around his finger and kissing the top of his head, remarking that he felt the same way.  Then, he remembered his own birthday and froze, recalling all that had transpired.  Lysander noticed his change in demeanor and inquired about it, but he tried to deflect it casually.  When pressed again, Elliott tried to be nonchalant about it.  “…It has already passed as well.”  Unsatisfied with this reply, Lysander nudged him again, politely demanding an answer.  “…It was in the first week of fall.”

Looking away and clearing his throat, Elliott knew that he was completely transparent, as his “tell” was obvious, and Lysander knew it well.  The other man peered at him curiously, thought about all of the information at hand, and laughed warmly.

“You’re telling me that your birthday was the first night we-“  Hastily agreeing with him, Elliott blushed even further, but smiled at the delighted hug that he gave him.  “So I gave you the best present you could have gotten at the time, yeah?”

Elliot considered this and smiled to himself.  It was true, that night he had finally freed himself from the last of the bonds that held him back, and he and Lysander had taken down the last barrier between them.  He felt much more confident in himself now, and it truly was a birthday, as he had very nearly been reborn after all that had transpired.  He hugged Lysander back twice as strongly, chuckling.

“You did,” he sighed, “I could not have asked for a greater gift.”

The other man appeared to have a cheeky, teasing reply ready, but discarded it, instead reaching over to caress his cheek.  “I promised that I would give you anything you asked for.”

“That is true,” Elliott replied, leaning into the touch, “first your mind, then your heart, and now your body.  And one day I will ask for your hand.”

Lysander’s reaction filled him with indescribable warmth; the slight flush to his cheeks, the way his eyes widened and dilated a little, the hitch to his breath…  He was genuinely surprised and pleased.  Had no one ever before suggested such a thing?  No, of course not, and he had always denied it to himself, too.  He had never considered himself worthy or deserving of someone’s devotion.  Finally, a hesitant smile returned to light up his face.

“…Gold or platinum?”

This simple question delighted him.  He saw none of the fear and worry that had been expressed only moments ago, and took his hand to kiss it.  “We’ll decide whenever we get that far.”  Lysander chuckled quietly at this as he ducked more firmly into Elliott’s arms as a cold breeze whipped around them, remarking that they should get home as it was beginning to get cold.  “Then I look forward to warming you back up and keeping you that way the rest of the night.”

Gearing up again, they sat astride _Morgenlied_ , all possible points of wind-entry on their clothes and gear very securely sealed; the night was technically lovely, but at highway speeds it grew teeth.  Despite this, it was still a pleasant ride back, and though Elliott expected Lysander to turn off at his home given the late hour, he continued on to Elliott's.  Parking where he always did next to the side of the cabin, he once again set the bike on its stand and turned it off, then waited for Elliott to dismount so he could do the same.

Lysander shivered and hugged himself even before he took off his helmet as he followed Elliott inside.  “Bloody hell, I’ll need to add a warm layer under my gear from now on.  It was a good ride but that stuff was definitely made to breathe, and it inhaled a LOT of cold air!”  Removing their helmets and gloves to set them on the table, they discarded the outer garments and hung them up, then retreated to the bedroom where Elliott promptly started a hot shower.  With no preamble or finesse, they disrobed quickly and haphazardly, ducking into the hot spray with delight.

Exhaling with satisfaction, Lysander positioned himself between Elliott and the water, feeling the hot water run down his back and shoulders as he hugged his partner.  Elliott didn’t begrudge him the closer proximity to and majority of the water, as while he was also cold, he didn’t feel it as badly.  For a minute or two they simply relaxed into the heated environment, being warmed from without by the water and the steam within.  Elliott untied the ribbon that held Lysander’s hair and, carefully leaning out of the shower, flicked the slightly-damp object to land on the sink.

“Mm.  Thanks, love, I kinda forgot to do that before I ducked in.  Too cold,” he murmured, putting his head back on the other man’s shoulder and holding him gently again.

With a sigh of contentment himself, Elliott held him, kissing his cheek and toying with a lock of hair again as he did a quick mental status check of himself, and, by proxy, Lysander.  They both felt _much_ warmer, and now that they had recovered, he could feel both of their fatigue weighing down on them.  Still, he wanted a few minutes more to enjoy this, and slowly ran his hands across his partner’s body, relishing the skin-to-skin contact.

Lysander sort of did the same, but only grabbed Elliott’s bottom with both hands and squeezed, giggling as he kissed his chin and leaned into his touch.  “I’m feeling _so_ much better.  I think I’m ready to dry off and pass out now, you?”

Nodding Elliott tilted up his chin to kiss him a bit more thoroughly and turned off the water, accepting a towel that Lysander handed him.  “I am likewise restored, though exhausted.  I had not realized that performing would drain me so.  But then, the day ended up being a little longer than I had expected.”

“Mm, yeah.  This was a great way to wind down.  Not all performances end with me feeling so tired, but there were a lot of moving parts that I usually don’t have to do myself, and we did stay out a bit after.  Still…”  He smiled happily at a few thoughts as he draped the towel over his shoulders.  “Gods, I missed that so much, it feels like I’ve found a part of me that had gone missing.  I feel more complete.”

Elliott hung up both of their towels and followed him to the bedroom, both of them retrieving their phones and plugging them in for power, as they had gotten dangerously low.  “I feel more than I was before,” he replied, turning off the light, “this was not anything that I’d ever done before, and to have experienced it enriches and enhances me.”  He slid under the sheets next to his partner and nuzzled his neck, smiling at his delighted giggle.  “Thank you for showing me another world, to help me become more than I was.”

Shifting to get comfortable on his side, Lysander yawned.  “C’mon, curl up around me, I still need your warmth.  And you’re welcome, this…”  He took Elliott’s fingers as he put his arm around him and kissed them.  “I’ve wanted to share something like this for years.  Allen, damn, I loved him, but this just wasn’t his thing, and I respect that.  He was talented in other areas, but he still supported me and enjoyed being there.   You…  I love you so much, and I’m so glad that I could share this with you.”

It took Elliott a moment to get himself into place, holding his partner close and wrapping around him almost possessively.  He nibbled Lysander’s ear to hear him laugh, then relaxed into the pillow.  “I love you as well, my dearest, and I feel contentment and relief in that you are healing and finding yourself again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	60. The Other Side of the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I was SO glad to get to this bit in book 1 because not only did it close out that bit of Lys's history and clear things up, but I liked the comments and reactions I got from readers seeing Allen pop up and tell his side of the story. It was interesting to see how they perceived him and events after only knowing Lys's side and how he's dealt with it up to this point. Now, I'm happy to get here because Elliott finally gets to put a face to the name and stories he's heard about. We never did get his opinion on some stuff last time, did we?//

The next few weeks were uneventful, with Lysander contracting Robin (and by proxy, someone specializing in glass work) to repair the greenhouse before winter.  Elliott wasn’t completely idle, as he and Charles communicated back and forth to work out particulars for the adaptation; it wasn’t the first time that he’d done this sort of thing, but it was a massive amount of help to have the authors just a phone call away.  He promised to send over the script as soon as he was done, but given the length of the book, as well as his duties as a father, it wouldn’t be until late winter at the earliest.

Elliott found the time to assist Lysander with moving what they could into the greenhouse once it was finished, though some things couldn’t be shifted, and would possibly be lost over the winter.  However, it wouldn’t be much effort to bring them back in the spring, though Lysander looked rather annoyed at the prospective loss of his sunflowers.  The berry bushes, however, were thriving and would definitely last the season, which was a relief, as that had been a bit of a risk for him to take, one that had thankfully already started to pay off.  They weren’t the only ones doing well, either, as news of their performance was already gaining momentum, and the band was working out the particulars for another gig some time soon.  Things were looking up for everyone.

Then, a few days after the first snow, Lysander and Elliott bundled up at the house for the walk to the saloon, as Alex had something he wanted to tell everyone and therefore celebrate.  Seeing the conditions outside, and remembering the fall he’d taken the year previous, Elliott elected to wear the riding boots, knowing he’d want the support and traction, as well as the warmth.  Assisting each other with scarves, they zipped and buttoned up their coats and pulled on gloves as they walked outside.  The cold didn’t bother Elliott that much, but Lysander clearly didn’t like it one bit, pulling up the hood of his coat with a scowl the moment they stepped outside.  Elliott smiled but said nothing, knowing that his partner thrived in the heat and the light, not this shaded, chilled landscape.

They made their way swiftly to the saloon, thankfully without incident, and likewise, Lysander said nothing about Elliott's overly-careful tread, knowing that he didn’t want to have a repeat incident.  Greeted by their friends, as they were the last to arrive, they gratefully discarded their outer garments and took the last two chairs at the table.  Lysander apologized for their tardiness, as they had elected to walk instead of ride since he still wasn’t comfortable with riding in the snow yet.  Alex wasn’t the least bit bothered, smiling fit to burst.

“So, what’s the good news, cousin?” Lysander asked as he pulled over a glass and a pitcher of beer, “something special come up?”

Almost unable to contain his glee, Alex held his glass in both hands, sweeping the table with an ear-splitting smile.  “I got accepted to the gridball team at university.  I’m going pro, bro!”

The saloon was suddenly filled with joyous noise.  Apparently he’d not yet mentioned this to anyone, as Haley got up to hug him, bouncing with delight.

“So that’s the call you were so excited about, sweetie!” she gasped, kissing his cheek, “oh wow, I am _so_ happy for you!”  Sebastian and Sam offered their congratulations, despite having no interest in the sport, but at least showing their support for their friend and his success.

Lysander’s expression mirrored the athlete’s.  “That is brilliant, you’ve busted your arse for months getting ready and it’s paid off,” he smiled, genuinely pleased for him, “proper nifty, Alex, I’m really proud of you.”

Taking a satisfied drink, Alex looked ready to float away, buoyed by glee.  “You’re the one that inspired me to try again and chase my dream.  Thanks, I owe you.”

With a theatrical, careless wave, Lysander leaned back in his chair and drank his entire glass at once.  “Eh, you saved my life earlier this year, consider the debt paid.”

Conversation was loud and enthusiastic for several minutes, and Elliott listened quietly, enjoying vicariously everyone’s happiness.  He’d never before been in such lively company before and felt so welcome.  He was happy to sit back and simply be there.  This was lovely, and he sipped at his beer as he listened in on everyone’s conversations.  Then, the door opened, letting in a tendril of cold, making him shiver.

He glanced up to see someone he’d never seen before; he was tall, but not quite as much as he or Lysander was, of an average build with short black hair that could definitely use the attention of a hairbrush, as the time spent doing that must have gone into carefully trimming his close-cut beard and mustache.  He adjusted glasses with large, black frames that nearly obscured gentle green eyes, and in doing so, he looked around the people seated at the table, but only half of them had noticed his arrival and scrutiny.  Then, he saw Lysander, and his face lit up as he sighed with relief.

“Lys, it _is_ you!  It’s been a while!”

Before Elliott could query either of them as to how or if they knew each other, he saw his partner freeze and drop his empty glass; his back had been to the door, so he had not yet seen the other man, but clearly he recognized the voice.  At first Elliott thought his partner’s surprise was pleasant, but the flash of rage that immediately consumed the copper-haired man scared him, and he was therefore unable to prevent him from rising out of his chair, charging the person who had addressed him, grabbing him by the collar, and forcibly slamming him against the wall.

“YOU UNBELIEVABLE BASTARD!”

Shocked and horrified, Elliott was unable to move, having no idea of what to do or if he should even interfere.  Alex felt no such hesitation and got up to dart around the table, grab his cousin by the arm, drag him away, and twist that arm behind his back.  Lysander gasped, as this maneuver clearly hurt, but it did nothing to dampen his ire.

“Cuz, the hell!” Alex asked, looking between Lysander and the man he’d pulled him off of, “what’s gotten into you?”

To everyone’s surprise, that sort of assault would have terrified anyone, but the newcomer looked sad more than anything else.  “Lys…  I…  I came here to talk.”

Snarling with rage, Lysander glared at him with unfiltered hate.  “You don’t have anything worth listening to,” he hissed, still resisting against Alex despite the pain, “last time I tried to talk to you I woke up on the kitchen floor covered in my own blood.”

This outburst caused Alex to accidentally release him, and Lysander winced and rubbed his shoulder as he stood up, but made no move to lunge forward again.  Looking between his partner and the new arrival, Elliott realized immediately who he was.  “You are Allen, correct?” he asked, and the other man smiled again.

“Yes, he’s told you about me?”

“They _all_ know about you,” Lysander snapped, “and all _about_ you.  We’re done, you made that very clear before.”

“No!” Allen interjected, holding up his hands, “Lys, wait, it was a misunderstanding-“

“ _Really_!” interrupted Lysander, causing everyone to prepare to intervene again, “what part of ‘you’re easy and I don’t like men’ is a misunderstanding?”

Allen looked quite distraught and tried to get in a word edgewise.  “That’s not what I meant-“

“Then what did you mean?” Lysander demanded, getting louder and angrier, “because it was pretty obvious that you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“I never said that!”

Elliott felt torn and hurt; he wanted to go to Lysander to calm him, yet he wanted to stand between him and his former lover, knowing that this was only going to escalate badly.  His indecision meant that someone else stepped in, but he was glad for it, because he was at a loss for how to help.

“Dude…”  Glaring at Sam, Lysander looked extremely displeased that his friend had wedged himself into the argument with just one, quiet word.  The blonde man was unusually introspective, and was looking into his empty glass as though it would provide him inspiration.  “As someone who screws up a lot, and most of the time on purpose, I can tell when someone wants to make things right.  And few things hurt more than not being able to.  Just…”  He looked up and met Lysander’s gaze, cool blue to the burning hazel.  “Please chill out a sec and hear him out, okay?”

Elliott stood and walked around the table to his partner, who while still angry, held the reins on his fury for the moment.  For a moment Elliott was worried that he’d pull away when he went to put his arms around him from behind, but was relieved that while he remained tense, he didn’t make any effort to break free.  Biting his lip, Elliott had no words prepared and was worried that he’d say exactly the wrong thing, but spoke anyway, knowing that Lysander needed to hear _something_.  He needed to provide that love and support he needed, even though he was completely at a loss as to how to do so.

“Dear, I realize that you were hurt in so many ways, but do not forget that it cuts both ways,” he said, pulling him a bit closer, “you need this closure as well, and you know it.  Listen, talk, reconcile.  If not for him then for me, because it hurts more than I can express to see you suffer over your past like this.”

He felt so selfish and terrible for saying that, but it was true; he felt an awful, gnawing ache in his gut over this, knowing what had been told to him and having a fairly good idea of how Lysander would push away his former companion.  Or worse.  His heart drummed in his ears for a moment in the tense silence that followed, and he exhaled gratefully when Lysander gave a sharp nod of assent.  Elliott stepped away and watched his partner very nearly storm away to lean against the wall, very firmly staring at the floor as he folded his arms across his chest.

Allen seemed to share Elliott’s concern and glanced over at him, having guessed that he was Lysander’s new companion.  This silent, respectful query eased a bit of Elliott’s tension, and he offered the other man a warm smile and a nod, gesturing for him to go to talk with Lysander.  This smile was definitely for Allen, however, as he himself did not feel that same confidence and reassurance.  He took his seat again, his back to the other two men, and held his glass in both hands, trying not to listen in _too_ intently, but at the same time, their conversation was public.

Unsure of how or where to start, Allen sighed with frustration.  “I didn’t want you to leave, and it’s not that I didn’t love you, it’s that…  It changed.  _I_ changed.”

Lysander didn’t sound the least bit moved.  “That’s a roundabout way of saying you’re not interested.”

“I’m not not-interested-“ Allen began, “that is, I’m not uninterested.. Damn it, Lys…”

The black-haired man sighed deeply and began again.  He had always loved Lysander, but though for the longest time he was certain that it was romantic, after awhile he realized that it wasn’t, but he still cared for him, a love to which he couldn’t put the right name.  Despite his internal conflict he was happy and enjoyed the time that he spent with him, and upon returning from their long absence, was glad to resume their relationship.  Yes, he did still love him, but he couldn’t describe it then, and he still couldn’t now.  Further, his parents weren’t comfortable with same-gendered relationships, and he was worried about them discovering what he had with Lysander and driving something between them.

Elliott must have looked particularly downcast, because a gentle touch from Sam on his arm made him jump.  He didn’t realize that the musician could actually be supportive like that, and his warm smile was more reassuring than he’d expected.  He returned the smile and took a sip from his glass, returning his attention to the dialogue behind him, morbidly curious, but at the same time, eager to know the other side of the story that had so scarred his partner.

Busy with his courses, Allen didn’t have the time he wanted to spend with Lysander, and in their time apart, began hearing disquieting rumors about him.  He didn’t believe such things, but at the same time, it wasn’t malicious, it was simply spoken as fact, as though it were a thing that was simply commonly known.  Unsure of how to bring this up with him, he avoided him, knowing that it wasn’t the right thing to do, but had no idea of what he should do, and the longer it went on the more worried he got.  He knew that he should have trusted and respected him enough to have said something, but at the same time it was because of how close they were that he hesitated.

Eventually, he made up his mind to say something, to come out and come clean to Lysander about everything that had happened and everything that was on his mind.  He had prepared something, with everything that needed to be said.  He’d worked up his courage and was going to talk to him late one afternoon.  …Only to have Lysander publicly and angrily confront him hours earlier than he had expected.  It all went wrong; he completely forgot his “script,” and kept messing up everything he tried to say.  They both got angry, then they got loud, and they both lost their temper.  Finally, Lysander lashed out, knocking him to the ground, and the friends of theirs that had gathered fought him back.  This had been a horrible series of mistakes, as though it might have been salvaged despite Allen being hit, once Lysander had been struck all sense went out the window.  He had got to his feet as quickly as he could and pursued Lysander, assuming that he’d go to his apartment like he always did when he needed to be by himself. 

Elliott’s grip on his glass tightened, knowing what had happened next, and felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter.  The tense silence around the table was proof that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to hear this portion of the story again.  Allen clearly didn’t want to tell it, either, as he went silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, he was almost too quiet to hear.

He wasn’t certain how far behind he’d been, likely only a couple of minutes, but that had been just enough time…  They heard a muffled sob as the story paused again, and Elliott’s knuckles went white around his glass.  Allen had found him in the kitchen, still holding the red-stained knife and not responding to anything he did.  He had called for help to arrive while he did what he could to staunch the bleeding, and Elliott put a hand over his mouth and blinked back the burn of tears.  Oh gods, he had wondered who had summoned medical aid, but Lysander hadn’t said who, and he’d never asked.  He could only imagine how Allen had felt at that moment, seeing his lover and friend like that, having chosen oblivion over pain.

Again, he felt Sam’s touch on his wrist, and he nodded in thanks, not trusting himself to say anything without breaking down.  He wasn’t the only one, as Allen sounded moments away from tears himself, especially once he recalled that Lysander had briefly awoken, only to tell the medics to let him die.  It was the last that he saw of him until now, having fled to somewhere else after hearing those words and knowing that he had been the one to cause them.  When he had heard that Lysander had survived but not contacted him, he assumed that he had wanted to cut ties entirely and therefore didn’t reach out to him himself.

However, when he had found out that not only was he doing well but part of a new band that was to play in the city, he had to come and see for himself if it was him and how he was doing.  He felt relief that Lysander not only was well after all, but thriving, and enjoyed the entire set.  But the final piece, the song that Lysander’s grandfather had taught him, which Lysander had played for him so often was too much for him.  He had to leave, but it also stirred within him the resolve to find him and try to make amends.  Even if he couldn’t gain Lysander’s forgiveness, he at the least needed to lift the burden of guilt from himself and reached out just this once, even if it was the last.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you like I did,” he said, his voice shaking, “I don’t blame you one bit for hitting me, and if you want to do it again I won’t stop you.  I deserve it.  I just…Lys?”

Elliott looked up and turned around, hearing the concern in Allen’s voice, and saw that Lysander’s entire posture and demeanor had changed; where earlier he was holding back from lashing out, now it was tears that he held back.  Shrinking away from Allen, Lysander looked devastated, having heard the other side of the story and everything that it implied and meant.  Without thinking, Elliott got up to go to him just as Allen did the same; despite their own pain their first reaction was to try to comfort him first!

Seeing this, Lysander fled, ducking away from both of them, but didn’t see the obstacle of a chair in his path, which sent him sprawling.  Once more he was too swift and scrambled to his feet to run outside.

“Lysander!” Elliott called, then grabbed his coat.  “Damn it, I was afraid of that, I’ll go and bring him back.”  He looked up at Allen as he buttoned his coat as quickly as he could.  “Please, have a seat.  Sam, get him a glass.  Alex, tell Gus that I’ll cover whatever he wants.”  Curiously, everyone obeyed without further prodding, and he somehow didn’t feel strange at not only taking charge like this but doing so with confidence and the knowledge that they would listen.

Allen walked over but didn’t sit down yet, still worried.  “What happened?” he asked as he glanced out the still-open door while Elliott put on his scarf, “I thought he was angry and hated me, but he just ran off.”  A horrifying thought came to mind and he turned back to Elliott.  “…He’s not going to do anything...?”

Putting on his gloves, Elliott shook his head.  “He ran because he thought that _you_ hated _him_ , and because he now fully knows the pain that he has caused to you.”  He picked up Lysander’s gear and paused at the door.  “Again, please, sit and be among friends.  I shall return as swiftly as I can.”

He closed the door behind himself as he strode quickly into the snow, following the fresh tracks that led south.

_Light, don’t let me be wrong.  I know that he is strong, that he has recovered and grown so much, but that wound never healed and now it has been ripped wide and made to bleed.  I trust him, but at the same time I know him, and it is that fear that chills me more than ice ever could._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	61. The Last of One's Suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //In which Lysander has realized exactly what happened back then and questions everything about himself, and Elliott continues to be awesome and knows exactly what to say.//

Lysander’s tracks were distinctive enough; there was no mistaking the tread of those boots or the length of his running stride.   There were few other sets of tracks out, as the snow was fresh enough, but Elliott was no tracker, and in his haste to follow he worried about following the wrong path.  He also wasn’t a runner and quickly felt the burn of fatigue smolder in his chest even as the icy air clawed at his throat.  His pragmatism in wearing boots that day made his trek much faster and safer, though he still picked his route carefully; though he had seen no sign of stumbling or sliding about in the icy conditions, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t fall.  The trail still led south, to the river and the ocean and…

_No.  Stop that.  Just follow the trail, wherever it leads, he can’t have gone far…  I hope…_

That hope held out, and he exhaled a ragged sigh of relief to see Lysander, staring out over the river on the bridge.  He slowed to a trot, then a walk, but still went to him as quickly as he could.  “Lysander!  Dearest!”

There was no response at first, then a sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  “…I don’t deserve either of you…”  Finally having reached him, Elliott had almost missed his comment, and asked what he had meant.  “I’m such a damn, stupid idiot,” Lysander whispered, somehow not bothered by the cold, “I rush into everything without thinking.  I _never_ think, I just do things and screw them up.”

He devolved into a litany of self-recrimination, lamenting that he should have waited, talked to Allen in private, and kept a leash on his temper.  More so than anything else, he regretted striking him, and he knew even then that he should have attempted to contact him once he had been discharged from the hospital, but he hadn’t.  Elliott listened quietly, as though he agreed with his statements, he did not agree with the way in which he was handling his grief.

“He was my oldest and best friend, we did and shared everything together.  And I threw it all away from one little misunderstanding, because I’m too stupid to wait and listen.  I hurt him so much, which he never deserved, and I hate myself for it.”  Setting his jaw firmly, Elliott back a remark and patiently waited for his partner to continue, though he began to worry for his health.  “All of the pain I’ve carried this year has been of my own doing.  I don’t deserve love or happiness, I’ll just destroy it all anyway…”

This offended and infuriated Elliott, and almost without thinking he yanked off one glove, pulled back, and slapped Lysander across the face with all of the strength he could muster.  This was completely unexpected, and the sound of the strike was loud enough to almost echo, causing Lysander’s legs to buckle under him and send him sprawling on his back.  It was impulsive and done out of short-sighted anger, but for the moment, Elliott’s blood ran hot, and it was his turn to lose his temper.

“So my love for you means nothing?” he snarled, and Lysander gave him a look of awed bafflement, looking up at him from flat on his back on the bridge.

“What?  No!  I didn’t-“

“Does the devotion and care that I feel for you make me a fool, then?” Elliott snapped, close to shouting, “you would discard everything that we have and are, everything that we have done, out of self-recrimination and pity?”

Sitting up, Lysander waved his hands at him, trying to smooth things over.  “Love, no, that’s-!  …You’re right.  I’m the one being foolish,” he sighed, giving him an apologetic smile, “I’m falling back into bad habits.  Thanks, I needed that.”

It was Elliott’s turn to feel remorse as he helped his partner to his feet.  He shouldn’t have done that!  “Are you hurt, my dear?” he asked, putting a hand to Lysander’s face to check for any bruising, “my apologies, I did not realize that I had that level of strength when my ire had been invoked.”

Strangely, Lysander seemed to actually be proud of him for that, and shook his head as he put a hand over the one on his face.  “I already said it, I needed that.  It stings, both ways, but you were right- _are_ right and I had that coming.  I didn’t mean to denigrate you or your feelings.  Sorry love.”  They both felt better for airing their thoughts together, but Elliott’s concern suddenly manifested when Lysander gasped and hugged himself, eyes wide with realization.  “Bloody hell, how did I not notice this until now?” he hissed, reaching for his coat, “it’s _freezing_ out.”

Elliott helped him with donning his coat and garments, as the cold had finally taken effect, and Lysander’s hands were suddenly clumsy.  Once Elliott had secured his partner’s scarf he put his glove back on, seeing that Lysander had done the same and was rubbing his hands together.  He pulled his partner against him, providing mental and physical support, and Lysander sighed again as he rested his forehead against Elliott’s, trying to find his center.

“Allen and I both screwed up here.  We’re both to blame,” he remarked, no longer sounding dejected, but still rueful.

Elliott squeezed him in a gentle hug, echoing his sigh.  “There is no blame to assign.  However, you both have _responsibility_ for it.”

Thinking about this, Lysander nodded and chuckled.  “Heh, yeah, you’re right.  Twice in one day.”

Further relieved that things had been resolved, Elliott suggested that they return to the saloon before everyone worried about them.  This was met with no resistance at all, as Lysander was still quite cold, and took the other man’s hand as they walked back.  For a minute or two they were silent, then he chuckled once more.

“You really are something special, love.”  Elliott looked over at him and made an inquisitive noise, which received a warm smile.  “You’re the first person to take a swing at me and not set me off.  I’ve always had a short fuse and a hot temper, and for as long as I can remember I always got into fights ‘cause someone insulted me or a friend, or outright took a swing at me, and every damn time I’d get into a scuffle and come home _such_ a mess.  But this time…  I felt like such a total asshole ‘cause you’re such a sweetie and so mellow, and I’d done something so _dumb_ that you were hurt enough to thump my dumb ass.  First time that’s ever happened.”

Elliott looked a bit downcast and squeezed his hand.  “That is true, but I still lashed out at you, my dear.  I lacked the discipline and self-control necessary to handle the situation in a mature fashion.  I understand exactly why…  Back then, all of it, I…”

Sighing again, Lysander stopped and hugged him around the waist, nuzzling his ear as he smiled.  “Love, don’t ever apologize for that, _ever_.  I’m glad you did that, that you have the temerity and drive to not only call me out when I’m being a dumbass, but to knock me on my dumb ass when I need it the most.  Do you have any idea how great it feels having a partner that isn’t afraid to knock some sense into me?  I’m strong enough, I can take it.  Now and then I need a bit of a swat and that’s not a bad thing.  Thank you for being able to do that for me.”

“But…”  Elliott squeezed him tighter, wrapping a lock of Lysander’s hair around his fingers.  “You cannot do the same to or for me.  I am not as strong or resilient, and I am certain that should you use your full strength I would be greatly injured.  Thus, I cannot hit you because you cannot hit back with the same results.”

“Shut up.”

“I-“

Lysander kissed him softly and laughed, tugging his hair playfully.  “No, I am _not_ having any of that.  You aren’t the dingus that can’t be arsed to pay attention or think things through.  And you know what?  You are _so_ much stronger than you let you think you are, in so many ways.  No,” he said, putting a finger to Elliott’s lips when he was about to protest, “I’ve seen you change, love.  I remember when we first met, and I saw you grow since then.  You’ve always been strong.”  His smile softened further, and he traced his fingers down his partner’s cheek.  “You’ve always been kind and thoughtful.  You didn’t talk much to people before I got here, but from what I gathered, they thought well of you, and a few were even a bit worried about you.”

He had no reason to disbelieve Lysander, but at the same time it felt difficult to believe.  …Wait, why?  Why did he always doubt himself?  Hadn’t this entire year been proof otherwise?  Wasn’t the man that loved him, here and now, wholly and unconditionally, complete proof that he had no reason for those doubts?  He laughed and blinked back tears as he hugged Lysander fiercely, digging his fingers into his back.

“You are right, my dearest.  It feels strange to think well of myself, but only because I refused to let myself accept my success.  It is…  It is as though I am stretching long-unused muscles.  They hurt and ache, but there is also a sense of relief and satisfaction in their use again.  Thank you, dearest, once more you illuminate a path I never knew existed.”

The laughter from the copper-haired man was bright and warm, and it made Elliott smile, as it always did.  “How did we survive without each other for this long?”

It was Elliott’s turn to kiss him now, feeling much better for the conversation.  “We very nearly didn’t.  We were broken and damaged, drifting aimlessly and bleeding from wounds never healed.  We were the salve and bandages to each other’s soul that we didn’t realize we needed.  Or deserved.”  He saw that Lysander was looking much warmer, the color having returned to his cheeks.  “Well, let us continue our trek back.  Although…  Shall I talk to Allen first, or-“

“No.  Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off, but no, I need to do this.  He…”  Lysander almost seemed on the verge of tears, and so quickly after recovering.  “He deserves to hear everything from me.  I screwed up so badly, and it’s my responsibility to fix everything.  Besides, he took the risk to track me down and apologize, even after this time and all that happened.  I…  I still love him, but…  I still don’t quite know what kind it is.  I just want him back, y’know?  I remember all of our good times and even our bad times, and gods, just…  Twenty years, love, you can’t just throw that away.  But…”

Elliott put his arms around his partner’s shoulders, stroking his hair.  “But at the same time you fear that one moment of miscommunication and pain has completely dashed any hopes for reconciliation, yes?”

“Yeah…  It’s…”

“Turn it around.”  Lysander gave him an odd look but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  “Exactly that, dear.  Switch places.  Had he been the one to strike you and run, to attempt to take his own life and then run away, severing all communication, what would you have thought and done?  Would you have had the courage to attempt to try to speak to him again?  Let’s assume that you did, and the scenario played out as it did just now.  You opened up and confessed everything, laid your soul bare and did so without the expectation of forgiveness and the chance to start again, only the hope of it.  Then he ran once more, but because he saw the pain that he had caused you without realizing it and couldn’t handle the guilt of it.  What would you want him to do?”

Nodding, Lysander sighed and sagged into him.  “I’d want him to come back, so I could tell him it’s not his fault, that I want us to be…friends again.  That I miss him and want things to be the way they were before, when we were happy.”

Kissing his forehead, Elliott gave Lysander a supportive smile.  “It looks like you know exactly what you want to say.”

“Mm, yeah.”  He took a deep, calming breath, and squared his shoulders.  “I’m taking responsibility.  I’m going to make this right.  I’m not running anymore, ever again.  From now on I deal with things upfront and head on.  Although…  I’m still not strong enough to do it alone.  I…  I don’t need you _next_ to me, but I still want you there.”

Elliott’s hug nearly took Lysander’s breath away.  “You will never be alone again, my dear, I will always be at your side, and even when I cannot be physically present know that you will always have my love.  I am your partner, don’t ever forget that.”

Sniffing a little, Lysander blinked back tears as he buried his face in Elliott’s scarf.  “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Because you are my muse, and thus you are my inspiration.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	62. Mended Friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I still love this scene, it felt SO GOOD to finally have Lys reconcile his past and make up with someone that meant the world to him.//

The saloon was filled with laughter and merry conversation as Lysander and Elliott arrived.  Elliott caught the tail-end of a story that Allen was telling, something involving spiders, and he smiled to himself as he closed the door, assuming that it was likely about his partner, and something embarrassing at that.  Their arrival invited attention, and when Allen saw them, the smile vanished as he put down his glass.  Lysander had removed his gloves and scarf, handing them to Elliott.  He was also looking quite somber, but likely for a different reason.

Sighing a bit sadly, Allen stood up and pushed back his chair.  “I’ll go now, sorry to have intruded, Lys.  I’m sorry for everything, especially barging in here like that.”  He reached for his own coat as Lysander gave his to Elliott.  ‘I’ll get out of your life and-“

He was interrupted by his friend hugging him fiercely and possessively.  “Stop running.  We both do that too much.  And we keep hurting each other every damn time.  Don’t apologize for anything.”  He dug his fingers into Allen’s back, almost as if he were scared to let go.  “I understand now; I’m the one that started it, I’m the one that hurt you first, I’m the one that that cut off all contact and ran away.”  Quietly and carefully, Elliott set aside Lysander’s garments as he removed the same ones, then sat down to listen.  “You didn’t do anything wrong, you never did.  I’m always the one that got us in trouble, I’m always the one that got us hurt.  You were the one that was always there for me, and no matter what stupid shit I did or said, you always put up with my antics without ever complaining.”

Everyone else around the table was also silent, but this time there was no tension to it.  This time, they listened to their friend open up to an old friend, trying to fix what had been broken.  Lysander’s voice was steady, but still had the edge of pain.  “Every time we got into trouble you were the one who stepped up to make things right, even when you shouldn’t have.  You’re a better friend than I ever deserved, and it’s completely inexcusable what I did to you.  I’m sorry for all of the pain that I caused, I’m sorry for running away, I’m sorry for doubting you, I’m sorry for not being strong enough, I-“

Allen pulled away to grasp Lysander by the shoulders, almost shaking him in frustration and because he could hear him breaking down into tears.  “You always apologize for everything, even if it’s not your fault, stop it!  And I don’t know what I ever did to deserve your friendship.”  His grip was a little less firm, but he still held onto Lysander, for both of their sake.  “I was always a coward, holding back and running from everything while you stood up and protected me.  Every time you’d smile and show off your bruises and cuts, laughing at how the other guys got it worse.”

Smiling into his drink, Elliott was hard-pressed not to laugh with delight.  This sort of information didn’t surprise him, but at the same time, he felt delighted to hear this bit of his partner’s past.  He fancied himself a rogue, but these were the acts of a paladin!

Finding a smile again, Allen continued.  “You were always the brave one who tried new things and was happy to be in front of a crowd.  You were always so full of love and warmth that you wanted to share with other people, and I always felt like I was just leeching off of it, never giving anything back.”  He shook his friend gently as he squeezed his arms, chuckling happily.  “And you _are_ strong, you always took on the weight of the world and other people's troubles without question and never asked for anything in return.  You always _gave_ Lys; love, money, time, everything, and you did it with a smile.  You're _too_ strong, and I feel like such selfish dead weight, because despite everything that's happened and what I did to you, I still want to be around you.  I don't understand, why did you want to be friends with me?”

Lysander was both relieved by this information, but still baffled by his friend’s quick acceptance of the situation.  He reached over and ruffled Allen’s hair, chuckling softly.  “Because you cared.  I was always different, in appearance, personality, everything.  I never got along with anyone, even though I tried.  So I stopped trying.”  He put his thumbs in his belt loops and thought back to a very old memory.  “And then one day I was at the park and saw a fight.  You were being picked on for some reason, but it's not like some people need a reason.  I'm a bit stupid but honorable, so I stepped in and fought back, and they ran.  And you...”

Laughing, he threw his arms around Allen again, but this time it was one of delight.  “You insisted on dragging me back to your house because one of them landed a lucky punch that cut my lip and you felt just _awful_ about someone being hurt because of you and you had to make it right.”

A soft round of chuckles momentarily interrupted the story, and Lysander flashed everyone a warm smile before he returned to his tale.  “We were, what, six?  Seven?  It was so long ago, but I still remember how you were almost frantic in telling your mom about what had happened and that she _had_ to help.  It made me feel good, y'know?  Nobody had ever  done that for me before.  And you were almost in tears the entire time she was cleaning me up.  All I could do was smile and laugh, and right then, it was all okay.  Also, I remember the cookies she gave us.  Your mom makes the best cookies, better than mine, but don't tell her that.”

Feeling the tension dissipate, Allen chuckled with relief.  “Yeah, those guys had me terrified, and then you swooped in laughing and throwing punches, without a care for your own safety.  It was like I had my own personal superhero, and I decided right then that I needed to stand up for that."

Elliott poured himself another drink, mulling over what he’d heard.  No, none of this was exactly a surprise, given what he’d learned about his partner over this half of a year.  And yet, the thought of his partner, so many years younger, valiantly and recklessly charging into danger for the sake of a friend, laughing like one gone mad brought a smile to his face.  He wasn’t the only one, as Allen was very nearly beaming now, and it was obvious why Lysander had loved him; he was attractive, kind, intelligent, and caring.  He could see all of that in the way that Allen smiled as he talked, and it was obvious that the love went both ways.

Lysander’s smile was warm and energetic.  "And over the years you continued to stand up for and with me, even despite the dumb and crazy shit I pulled.  You were the voice of reason and more than once talked me down from something that could have gone badly wrong.”  He shook his head, cuffing Allen on the shoulder.   “I'm almost bipolar and flicker between extremes, but you were always balanced and level-headed.  We were a great team together.  I inspired you to be a better person, and you gave me direction and something to fight for and protect.  You were always creative and brilliant.  I'm the musician and entertainer, but can't create to save my life.  You always had these grand ideas and knew how to make them happen, and all I wanted to do was make sure you could do anything you wanted."

_So I am not the first to have benefited from his love, he has been a muse to others.  Selflessly and happily he gives of everything he is and has.  Never again will I doubt myself, for I have been given a most amazing gift, and I will do all within my power to protect and support it._

He chuckled to himself, then blushed as he saw the other two men give him an amused look.  “I did not mean to interrupt, that was rude of me,” he said, feeling quite silly, which dissipated in the light of Allen’s smile.

“It’s okay, he’s found someone that makes him happy and supports him back.  I’m glad that you can do what I couldn’t.  What I wasn’t strong enough to to.”

This unexpected compliment completely eliminated Elliott’s embarrassment and replaced it with a rather warm and fuzzy feeling.  Lysander put a fist on his hip and tapped his friend on the top of the head, grinning broadly.  “Allen, you’re stronger than you know and I’ll keep saying it until it finally sticks.  Besides, I started it, everything, every time, you just went with it.  And it’s my fault that you felt like you couldn’t come to me about any of it.”  He sighed again and the smile took on an edge of regret.  “You were scared of me and what I might do, and that’s completely wrong.  I’m embarrassed and angry at myself that I gave you the impression that you couldn’t trust me to sit down and talk about your concerns as soon as something came up.  But regardless of what happened, I was selfish and stupid and wasn’t paying attention.  I was so happy to have you back when we met up again at university, and I wasn’t thinking of what _you_ wanted.  And that’s why I…”

The silence was quite loud, and in it they heard the words that he still didn’t have the courage to speak, as he ran his fingers over the mark on one wrist.  When he did speak again, his voice was softer and sad.  “I didn’t do it just because your words hurt, I did it because I thought that I had ruined a friendship that had lasted me a lifetime, and had physically and emotionally caused suffering to the nicest person I knew, who had always and selflessly done everything for me.”

He bit his lip and tried to reach out to put a hand on Allen’s shoulder, but reconsidered and pulled back.  “I couldn’t live with that pain.  I was too weak to live with it.  That’s why I told the medics to leave me, because I was too much of a coward to look you in the face again after what had happened.  I was so angry at you for so long, almost as much as I hated myself, and it tore me up inside, and I thought I was over it, up until you showed up just now.”  He clenched his fists, biting his lip again to hold back tears once more.  “I shouldn't have attacked you when you walked in, and Sam and Elliott are right, you deserved the chance to try to reconcile things, or at least clear up the past.  And now that I've heard your side...  I was wrong, Allen, about everything.  You were never to blame, none of this was your fault.  I was the source of both of our suffering."

Elliott had forgotten about his drink again, remembering the incident at the community center that had caused him to break down and finally open up.  This was the pain and weight that he’d been holding back, terrified that others would find out.  And when it had happened again…  Elliott was once more glad that Alex had stopped him before he’d gone too far, regardless of how the altercation had played out.  He glanced over with curiosity as Lysander walked a bit away from the table, sat down on the floor, and rested his arms on his knees.

“Which is why the next choice is yours, and I will respect it, regardless of what it is.”  He sighed deeply.  “Stay, leave, yell, cry, talk…  It doesn’t matter.  Hell, punch me if you want, I deserve it and I’ll only be angry if you hold back.  But I took control of everything for almost two decades.  No more.  This decision is _yours_ , and everyone here will back you up, whatever you decide.”  He gestured to the table, and Allen followed its path, looking surprised but relieved when everyone nodded assent.  “Don't worry about retaliation or recrimination, this needs to happen.  What do _you_ want?”

Quietly considering this, Allen folded his arms across his chest, regarding his friend carefully.  “Fine,” he said, “I’ve made my decision.”

Something in his voice made Lysander’s face fall, and Elliott’s heart fell with it, but he kept his silence; this was Lysander’s story to finish, not his.

“Good,” Lysander sighed, “whatever you want.”

“I want to be your friend again.”

Surprised, he looked up at his friend, open-mouthed.  “Even after I-“

“Although,” Allen interrupted, holding up a finger, “there is _one_ last thing to take care of.”  His grin as he cracked his knuckles gave a fair indication of what he was thinking, and despite it, Lysander seemed relieved.

“Fair enough.  Don’t hold back.  You’ve earned it.”

Grinning broadly, Allen stepped over to loom over his friend.  “Good, because if you’re still as ticklish as I remember then I’m going to enjoy this very much.”  Eyes wide with sudden panic, Lysander held up his hands in defense but was too slow to escape before Allen pounced and pinned him to the floor by kneeling on his waist.  “I thought you said you weren’t going to run away,” he smirked, “take your punishment like you promised!”

This revelation delighted Sam more than any other gift, and his grin split his face from ear to ear.  “No _WAY_ , he’s ticklish?  Lemme help, you’re losing this battle.”

“Sam, you ass- Gah!” Lysander shouted as the blonde man scampered over to grab his wrists and hold them above his head, leaving Allen plenty of room and freedom to work.

The table erupted into laughter, enjoying the complete shattering of the tension as well as seeing Lysander get a bit of comeuppance for his mischief and other things.  Thanks to this tag-team approach, Lysander was completely helpless, and alternated between swearing and laughing as he tried unsuccessfully to free himself.

Once Allen had decided that Lysander had had enough, he got to his feet and resumed his earlier crossed-arms pose, echoing the smile that Sam wore.  “There, we’re even now.”

Still flat on the floor, Lysander lifted a weak hand to wipe his eyes.  “…You…bastards…”  Elliott watched with further amusement as Lysander was helped to his feet by his tormentors, needing them both to stand and get to his chair.  “You both are my awful little brothers and I love you so much anyway.”

“Good,” Allen replied, poking him roughly, “remember, I’m to blame for half of what happened, Lys, stop taking the world on your shoulders all the damn time.”

Lysander thought of something, and a warm smile spread across his face.  “…Responsibility.”  At Allen’s query of confusion, he gave Elliott a smile of thanks and hugged his friend.  “Neither of us are to blame, but we both do have responsibility for what happened.  So, I’m sorry for what I did, and I forgive you for what you did.”

These were the words that Allen had apparently been waiting to hear but feared he never would, and his eyes got a bit misty as he sagged with relief.  “I’m sorry for everything and I forgive you for the same.  I just want to see you smile again.”

The familiar, welcome, brilliant smile was back, and Lysander chuckled as he ruffled Allen’s hair again.  “I’ve got my best friend back as well as a whole group of new and amazing ones.  All of the pain and anger is gone now, and I feel like I can do anything.”  His smile softened a little.  “Thanks for being the better person and reaching out.  Now, let me cover a couple of drinks for you and introduce you to everyone properly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	63. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Okay, not gonna lie, I totally forgot what day it was, and I've been grinding the hell out of the main story quests on FFXIV to reach the new expansion content, so I totally lost track of time. This is probably gonna be par for course for July, though, as I'm going out of state for training, and while I think I'll have decent wifi in the rooms, I don't know about time to write. I'll do what I can, though, this story is ALMOST over and I'd hate to artificially draw it out because of something like scheduling conflicts. :)//

Elliott watched with a smile as Lysander seated himself between him and Allen and began the round of introductions.  Having gone around the table away from himself, Elliott was the last to be made an acquaintance, and Allen gave him a thoughtful look.

“Wait, I’m reminded of something, but…”  With a grin, Lysander pulled out his phone, bringing up the e-book copy he’d downloaded recently and asked if this was what Allen was trying to remember.  “So I was right, I _did_ see that the other day!  You got published?  And married?  Damn, Lys, you move _fast_!”  Elliott couldn’t see Lysander’s face but he was quite certain that they both wore the same baffled look, which prompted friendly laughter from everyone else.

_I-!  Why do so many people assume that-  Well, it isn’t as thought it’s an unwelcome prospect, simply one that is too soon right now.  Although, to have so many suggest a thing unprompted…_

Lysander turned to him to say something but threw it away as the both of them broke down laughing.  “No, mate, not quite,” Lysander giggled, cuffing Allen playfully on the shoulder, “we got published, yes, but we’re only dating.  Here, I’ll pour you a drink, Elliott can tell this story.”

A little surprised, Elliott wasn’t quite certain where to start, but when in doubt, the beginning is a good idea.  “I had moved here a year before Lysander did, attempting to begin work on a novel.  I’d wanted to for many years but had had no luck with, well, any of it.  The short of it is that I had failed utterly and by the time the year had passed I was in rather a bad spot.”

He smiled warmly and stared into his glass as he recalled their first meeting.  “We encountered each other at one of the spring festivals.  After some conversation, we met again later at my home, and upon hearing of my…difficultly, offered his assistance.  You are, of course, familiar with his background, and because of that, we were able to craft together a story, one that I am completely incapable of creating myself.  As such, he deserved writing credit.  However, as I am trying to make my own way without relying on my family name, we decided to use his until I had a few more titles under my belt, so to speak.”  Chuckling, he rubbed a temple with one hand and shook his head.  “I mean it honestly that we had not intended any implications, but it seems that it’s worked out for us anyhow.”

Allen had listened with rapt fascination at the truncated tale, and gave Lysander a look of pride.  “And you kept saying that you’d never amount to much and had no creativity.  I am _so_ glad you’re wrong!  Congrats, I’m happy for you.  Well, for both of you, really.  That’s pretty damn awesome.  But you’ve been getting up to other stuff, too.  How’d you get into a band?  You sat in with your dad’s a lot but you didn’t seem the type to put together one yourself.”

Shaking his head, Lysander drank nearly half of his glass.  “Nope.  Another accidental bit of help, actually, it’s Sam’s band and idea, I just dropped by the day after that festival to help with something and got roped in.  Can’t say I mind, though, it’s been amazing and…”  He exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his bangs.  “I really don’t know what would’ve happened to me if I’d not met everyone here.”  He reached over to squeeze Elliott’s hand.  “Yeah, it’s been amazing, heh.  You were at our first gig, and gods, I haven’t felt that alive in _years_.  I’ve missed that sort of thing so much.  I’m kinda humbled to have had that opportunity.  And I saw mom and dad for the first time since my…incident.”

“Oh!”  Allen perked up at the mention of Arthur and Lynn.  “How are they?  Your parents are just such a kick.”

Shooting Elliott an amused glance, Lysander giggled at his look of embarrassment.  “They’re doing great.  They were there to help us out, plus a couple from dad’s band, so we weren’t completely on our own.  And I think mom was a bit salty about me being so silent for a bit ‘cause she totally sassed the hell out of us.  We were talking about what all I’d been up to since I’d moved here, and at one point she just straight-up asked- no, _demanded_ to know that we were ‘using protection.’  Holy _shit_ , I think Elliott turned the color of my hair.  And the entire time she’s just talking like it’s the weather, that regardless of what our status or whatever is we need to _keep_ using it, and that we also needed to keep getting medically checked out, too.  Or something.  I can’t really remember, I was a bit buzzed and it was a long night.”

Allen’s face was the picture of amused delight.  “You’re joking, Lynn really asked you two that in front of everyone else?”

“Yup, you know how mom is,” Lysander sighed, “but after the grilling that Liz gave to me I think I was allowed to enjoy Elliott being a little embarrassed.”  The look that he gave to him was cheeky, and he simply shook his head.

Sam remembered the conversation that had been interrupted when Lysander and Elliott had returned, and he reached over to prod Allen with a smirk of glee.  “Oh, hey, finish that story you were telling when they came back.”

“Mm?” Lysander asked, refilling his just-emptied glass, “what were you telling them?”

Allen’s grin was remarkably similar to one that Lysander usually wore.  “The haunted house story.”

With a groan of frustration and embarrassment, Lysander put his face in one hand and sighed.  “For the love of…  You know what?  This is part of my penance.  Go on, finish it, it’s not like Sam doesn’t have enough material with which he can give me grief.”

 

For the next couple of hours stories were traded and experiences shared, and Elliott remained silent for most of it, simply enjoying everyone’s company and the look of happy glee that Lysander wore.  He could already see the weight that had been lifted from his soul, and it shone so much brighter.  But as the night wore on it also wore them down, and they finished their drinks to stand up and gather their effects.  As everyone set about departing, Lysander offered them hugs as they walked past, which were happily accepted.  Alex was the one to give _him_ a hug, however, eliciting a grunt as the breath was momentarily squeezed from him.

“Cor, mate, you’re the only person that can manhandle me like that.  Proper impressive.  Ah, also, sorry if I kinda overshadowed your big news, that was a bit rude of me, yeah?”

Putting him down, Alex grinned and ruffled Lysander’s hair.  “Are you kidding?  You finally got all of that emo shit out of your system and cleared things up with an old friend.  I’m happy that you’re past all of that crap you went through.  Maybe now all of that tangle in your head will finally go away.”

Lysander was thoughtful, and a small, hesitant smile spread across his face.  “Yeah, true.  I’m already feeling so much better, I almost can’t describe it.  See you tomorrow like usual?”  Alex agreed, though he was uncertain as to how they’d deal with running in the snow.  “Cheers, then, sleep well.”  Elliott assisted him with his jacket, as he and Allen were already dressed.  “Time for us all to get going as well.  Though, I hope you’ll visit again, Allen, it’s good to have you back, and I’d love to show you around.”

Leading the way out, Elliott held the door open for the other two and closed it firmly behind them.  Allen shivered at the change in temperature and looked at Lysander with curiosity.  “I’ll have to do that.  Where do you live?”

“Remember grandpa’s farm? It’s mine now.”

His look of surprise made Lysander giggle.  “What?  You inherited _Sommerlied_ Farm?  I remember the summer that we visited; you fell out of a tree and broke your arm so badly your wrist touched your elbow.  I’m amazed you weren’t in greater pain.”  He chuckled and shook his head.  “Though it was funny how you were so mad that you had such a bad injury but wouldn’t have a cool scar to show for it later.”

Elliott bit his lip, trying not to laugh at their conversation.  What a reckless little hellion Lysander must have been!  Oh, he definitely wanted to talk to Allen again soon; getting the stories from his partner would be satisfying, yes, but he was interested to hear Allen’s take on them, as well as the ones that Lysander would too embarrassed to bring up without prompting.

Laughing at the incident in question, Lysander adjusted his clothes.  “Yup, I was lucky that grandpa knew how to set bones, and was able to get it back in place before any swelling or other damage could set in.  Heh, I’m amazed I’m not just a mess of scars from all I did back then.  Here, pull up a map of the area,” he said, waiting for Allen to retrieve his phone, “okay, so there’s the main road, we’re here, the farm is right there.”

The proximity to everything was something that Allen hadn’t expected.  “Oh, that’s right close, isn’t it?  I’ll drop in again some time.  I’ll message first, though.  …You still have the same number, don’t you?”

“I do, and I’ve still got you in there.”  He smiled warmly at his friend.  “Despite everything that happened I couldn’t bring myself to delete your information.”

With a chuckle, Allen shook his head, then bit his lip as he looked away.  “Lys, I…  There’s something I want to mention but didn’t want to say in front of everyone else.”  Sensing something very sensitive and private, Elliott offered to leave for a few minutes, but Allen shook his head again.  “No, it’s okay.  Rather, I want you here, so you know everything that happened.  You deserve to know.  I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

Both Elliott and Lysander were concerned, but once again Elliott kept his silence while his partner pressed his friend to continue.  Allen took a deep breath to settle himself and delved into the past.  “…Remember when I said earlier that I was ‘this close to following you?’  It wasn’t for a lack of effort.  I didn’t know if you’d survive, as you’d lost so much blood as well as your will to fight.  It was all my fault.  I’d killed my own best friend, the closest person I’d ever known and loved.”

He took a shuddering breath and hugged himself before continuing.  “I got to my own home and…  I tried to overdose.  I didn’t succeed, I just made myself badly sick, but I ended up in the hospital as well for it.  My parents were frantic, and even more so when I wouldn’t tell them why.  Eventually the only thing I told them was that I’d had a bad breakup, but wouldn’t tell them anything else or who it was with.  That’s why I didn’t try to see you in the hospital, Lys, because not only was I there myself, I didn’t even know you’d survived long enough to be admitted yourself.  By the time I found out that you’d recovered it had already been almost a week, and since you hadn’t tried to call me, I…”

Elliott fought the sting of tears as he listened, putting himself in Allen’s place at that moment and wondering- knowing that he might have done the same.  Something similar had almost happened not very long previous, and once more Elliott was unbelievably grateful for Alex’s interference.  Almost unable to fight his own tears, Allen didn’t resist when Lysander went to him and wrapped him in a protective hug.

“I didn’t know about that.  I didn’t talk to anyone, so I had no idea about your condition.  When you didn’t try to reach me I assumed that you never wanted to speak to me again.  By the light, Allen, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I nearly got the both of us killed and-“

Allen pulled away to punch him gently in the ribs with a look of patient irritation.  “Stop that.  We’re both to blame-  No, not blame.  You said it, we both have responsibility.  We’ve already made peace with all of it.  Time to move on.”

He sighed and smiled.  “And I still don’t know what I felt for you back then.  More than a friend, not enough for a lover.  Just… I don’t know.  It wasn’t romantic, but I always felt warm and safe and happy around you.  Everything was just _better_ with you around.  I mean, I don’t know who I’m attracted to, men or women, maybe nobody, I guess.  And looking back, I wasn’t interested in you, not like that.  I just wish that I’d had the courage to try to say it back then.”

With a chuckle, Lysander messed up Allen’s hair, grinning at his expression.  “If you had the courage back then you’d probably not be the person that I was friends with, you’d be different.  And I’ve been thinking about your words all night and…  I understand, because I can’t find the words either.  I thought I loved you, but I didn’t, not in that way.”

Another chuckle, and he reached over without looking to reach out for Elliott’s hand, and he complied, lacing their fingers together.  “I’ve found romantic love here, and it’s amazing and wonderful.  I know what it is now, and that’s not what I felt back then.  But that’s what I thought it was, at least for a while.  I started to have doubts. And then we started getting distant, and I began to worry, wondering what I’d done wrong, concerned that I was wrong, that it wasn’t love, or if it was, it was one sided.”  He shook his head, sighing at himself.  “So much noise, so much that went wrong, because I wasn’t honest with either of us and I was too scared to approach the issue head-on.”

Allen looked the happiest he had all night.  “I’m glad I came out here today.  I was terrified, but I was also tired of being a coward and running from everything.  I just wanted to stand on my own for once, to do the right thing, even if it was scary.  I just had to see you again, even if it was for the last time.”  He turned to Elliott, offering a hand.  “And I’m happy to have met you, Elliott, you’re a good man and I’m glad to see that you’ve made Lys happy.”

He didn’t realize how much this acceptance was valued until it was said, and he took Allen’s hand in both of his own, finding it hard to not be overly eloquent.  “Likewise, I am not only delighted but grateful to have made your acquaintance.  It has weighed heavily upon my mind for some time who it was to thank for summoning medical assistance to his aid, and I must express my deepest and most heartfelt thanks for your intervention.  You have been a pleasure to converse with tonight and I anticipate the opportunity to do so again in the future.  Please do not find yourself a stranger in this town or his home.”

Apparently his speech was extremely unexpected, and Allen gave him a very impressed stare before turning back to his friend.  “Damn, Lys, I can see why you fell for him so hard.  Even _I’m_ getting a bit hot for him right now.”  He sighed again as he rubbed his arms.  “But I’ll have to take you up on your offer to visit later, I need to get going.”

Lysander hugged him again, this time energetically, and pulled back to lean in, almost out of muscle memory, and at the last second refrained from kissing him.  With an embarrassed chuckle, he apologized, and Allen mimicked him.  “No worries, I almost did the same.  I may not have been interested in you but you were amazing at that.”

_Ever the romantic, and ever free with your love, but always selflessly.  I will not begrudge you the opportunity to properly close out your story the way that you need to._

With a warm smile, he put a hand on their shoulders.  “Take your time and do what you both need to in order to achieve closure.  I shall wait over here.”

He walked away to be out of earshot and took the time to study the snow that was beginning to fall again.  Such a strange thing, snow.  How so few could create something so much.  But wasn’t that the way of things everywhere?  He was aware of quiet conversation behind him but diligently paid it no mind, although he did allow himself a small, amused smile at a lengthy moment of silence.  Once more, there were a few words exchanged, and he heard footsteps approaching him.  He turned a little at a gentle touch on his arm, and smiled as Allen gave him a friendly wave before departing down the road.

Relieved, he was about to address Lysander when he saw his partner wiping away tears, and had a brief moment of panic when he flopped into the snow on his back, just missing catching him by inches.  Now he was worried that something had gone wrong in their parting, but Allen had looked happy.  “What is wrong?  Did he say something-“

“No.  No, it’s okay.”  With a smile, Lysander scrubbed away tears.  “Everything’s okay.  I’m…  I just feel dizzy and happy and light and just overwhelmed and empty at the same time.  It’s all a bit crazy right now.  It’s all over love, it’s gone; the pain, the hate, the anger…  I know the truth of all sides and what happened, and now I’m properly free.  Everything is right now.”

This relieved Elliott considerably, and he helped Lysander get to his feet when his partner held up a hand.  “Let us return to your home; it is simply frigid out here.”  He dusted him off while he fixed the hood of his coat to keep the snow off.  Now settled in body and mind, Lysander took Elliott’s hand and led the way home as quickly as they could, as though the snow was light, it was beginning to come down a bit more urgently.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the house, and they both welcomed the warmth as they walked in and began to remove coats, gloves, boots, and other items that would be left by the door.  Lysander went to the fireplace to rekindle the fire that had burned down in their absence but had left the house feeling quite snug.  Leaving him to it, Elliott went to the bedroom to undress, carefully putting his clothes over the back of a chair to deal with later, and was quickly joined by his partner, who stripped much more quickly and with far less finesse.  With a broad yawn, Lysander got into bed with an almost equal lack of dignity.

As he pulled the blanket over himself, he almost appeared to melt into the mattress.  “Merry hell, I didn’t do much today, but I’m just completely wiped.”

Finally undressed as well, Elliott wrapped himself around him from behind, nuzzling his neck, and the way that Lysander pressed into him gave him a warm sense of satisfaction and contentment.  “You had several moments of great stress and anxiety,” he pointed out, getting comfortable, “in addition to those of euphoria.  It was a taxing day for you, physically and mentally.”

Lysander agreed with this and yawned again as Elliott secured the blanket over them.  “And at the end of the day, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He was asleep in only a few breaths, and Elliott bit back a chuckle as he simply drank in the sensation of the two of them, just them, right there.

_And neither would I, my dear.  The wound that has festered and brought you suffering has been cleansed and healed.  You are free, and I can feel it, even in sleep.  There was a tension to your body that I never noticed until I realized its absence just now.  There is nothing more that can quench your flame, let it burn brighter than it ever has before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	64. In Sickness and In Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Finally getting to the second to last arc of this book. We're almost done, whoo! :D//

The front door slammed shut abruptly, waking Elliott.  Confused and bleary, he wondered what had happened.  Lysander never closed the door like that, and those footsteps weren’t right.  “Mmm, Lysander?” he asked, sitting up a little, “is everything okay?”

“Elliott!  He needs help!”

He was awake at the sound of panic in Alex’s voice, and as he sat fully upright the athlete strode into the room, holding Lysander in his arms, completely unconscious.

_Oh gods, my dearest, what-_

“What happened?”  It was difficult to keep that same panic at bay, and he moved a little so that Alex could ease his partner to the bed.  Once relieved of his burden, Alex rubbed his arms, looking worried.

“Hell if I know, bro, he ran up looking tired, nearly coughed up a lung, and just went limp.”  He gave Elliott a hopeful look.  “He didn’t say anything before he left?”

Elliott shook his head and put his fingers to Lysander’s throat.  Good; he had a steady pulse and he was breathing normally, if shallowly.  “He always wakes and leaves for your run before I rise, so no, there was nothing for me to notice.”  He was about to get up to get something, then remembered that they wore nothing to bed.  “Though I do require trousers, so…”

He let the statement trail off, and Alex turned away to give him a little privacy.  Strangely, Elliott didn’t find the idea of being nude around Alex to be embarrassing, nor did it seem arousing or pleasant.  It was simply that he was comfortable with himself, but didn’t want to make Alex uncomfortable.  However, given Alex’s previous commentary and athletic history he wasn’t bothered by being around other undressed males he likely wouldn’t care if Elliott _had_ got up without mentioning anything, but still, it felt courteous to at least give him the option.

Grabbing the first pair of trousers at hand, he stepped into them and noticed that they were Lysander’s.  Well, he’d worn them before and they’d fit just fine, and they did again.  They _were_ rather comfortable, he had to admit, though he was quite fond of his current style.  …Maybe he could emulate a bit of his partner’s aesthetic, it would be good for him to relax a little…

He fastened the zipper and button and adjusted the trousers to fit correctly.  “There, a bit more decent for company.”

“Aren’t those his pants?”

Elliott couldn’t hide a smirk as he put a fist on one hip.  “You’d rather I take them off?”

Alex returned the smirk.  “I’m good.”

Moving to his partner’s side and now fully awake, Elliott put a hand on his forehead and glanced up at Alex.  “Still, he’s burning with fever, why did you not take him to the clinic?  You were closer to it than his home, were you not?”

This apparently hadn’t occurred to Alex, but after a moment of consideration he chuckled at them both.  “It was, but even if I had it’s not open for a few more hours.”

Not quite as awake as he thought he was, Elliott laughed at this statement, realizing how silly a question it had been.  “You are correct, my apologies for disparaging you,” he smiled, as he opened the dresser and began looking for something, “you did the right thing, thank you.  Please, stay, allow me to get you something to eat or drink, you look cold yourself.”

Perking up, Alex grinned.  “That’s be great, thanks.”  He looked down and then back the way he’d come and groaned.  “Aw crap, I tracked in a bit of mud and snow, sorry about that.”

Elliott shook his head as he pulled out what he needed, and ducked into the bathroom to get a towel that he threw to Alex.  “You were concerned for his health and safety, it is understandable.  Here, use this, I’ll get Lysander changed into something a bit more suitable.”

Now relieved that Lysander was some place where he could be taken care of, Alex grinned as he gestured toward his cousin.  “You need help or are you good?”

Appreciating the friendly tease as well as the genuine offer to help, Elliott smirked again and shook his head.  “I am quite adept at undressing him, I think that I can manage the reverse with little difficulty.”

He was left to his work when Alex began wiping the floor from the bedroom back to the front door, undoing his mess.  As he had averred, he was able to strip his partner of his running garments quickly, but getting him into the pajamas, even though they _were_ a button up-front instead of a pullover, was a bit difficult.  He had hoped a little that Lysander would wake up, to make the process a little easier, but whatever had struck him down had knocked him out hard, though he had noticed no sign of injury in the exchange of garments.

Suitably changed out, Elliott moved him under the covers, as though while he had a fever, he didn’t feel comfortable with trying to cool him down without medical consultation.  Feeling slightly chilled, he picked up Lysander’s discarded shirt as well, the long-sleeved one, and pulled that over his head.  Once again he entertained the idea of altering his style a little to accommodate something a bit more casual, and walked out of the bedroom to see Alex take off his shoes and set them by the door.

Elliott gestured over his shoulder.  “Put that in the laundry bin, I’ll start a coffee for us both.  Or do you prefer something else?”

“Nah, coffee’s good,” he replied, standing up from the bench, “ heh, so what, you’re in that part of the relationship where you’re wearing each other’s clothes now?”

With a quirk of a smile, Elliott shook his head again.  “It isn’t the first time, and they were the first garments at hand.  I assumed that you would be uncomfortable with anything less.”

As he moved to the kitchen Alex strolled into the bedroom, and Elliott tried to focus on what was needed to make coffee.  Now that the initial moment of panic had subsided, he had plenty of time and energy to begin worrying, and he was trying his best to avoid that.  It took a couple of tries to remember where the press was, and he nearly dropped it when he did find it, came close to spilling the grounds, and knocked aside a mug that skittered across the counter away from him.  Hands shaking, he tried to think of the task at hand, just making coffee, nothing else, but he’d never seen his partner in such a state, and, being honest with himself, he was terrified.

He heard Alex approach and tried his best to act normally, but this made it worse.  “Hey, Elliott, chill, he’ll be fine.”  Alex patiently righted the scattered items on the counter, and with remarkable speed and accuracy, caught a cup that Elliott elbowed off of the counter.  “It’s just a cold,” he reassured, "I’ll go and pick up Doc Harvey when the clinic opens and bring him on down.  Right now you can’t do anything, so just…chill, yeah?”

This simple statement of the facts and genuine confidence that Alex had somehow reassured him, and Elliott rested his weight on his hands on the counter, taking a deep, slow breath.  “You are correct, thank you,” he replied, “I am overreacting, but it is difficult for me to not be concerned.”  While he still had focus and control, he mixed together the grounds and hot water, and that task done reached for a cup, but backhanded it instead, and juggled it for a moment as he caught it.  “Gods _DAMN IT!_ ”

He immediately turned very red at this, not only for the unexpected epithet, but losing control like that, and in front of someone else.  Alex smiled at him, and for a moment he could see the family resemblance in it.  “You really do care about him, don’t you?  C’mere, bro-hug, you need it.”

Elliott gasped both at Alex’s strength and nearly having the breath crushed out of him, hearing and feeling his back pop loose in a couple of places.  His knees went a little weak as Alex loosened his grip, but courteously, Alex continued to support him.  Gratefully, he returned the hug, though not _nearly_ as strongly, and sighed as he leaned into the athlete, welcoming the unspoken and freely-offered support.

_This is the man with whom I once nearly had a rivalry, with whom I had multiple disagreements and misunderstandings.  Someone that I never thought I would see eye to eye with on anything.  And yet, here we are, in the home of the one that we both love, providing comfort to each other until uncertainty and peril have passed.  How strange it is what has changed, and so quickly._

Sighing with relief, Elliott pulled away to check on the coffee.  “My thanks again.  I had thought that concentrating on a simple task would be sufficient to distract and focus myself, but apparently I am not as rational as I had hoped to be.”

Alex shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.  “A’course not.  You love him to pieces and you’ve never seen him this weak before.  He’s always been the strongest out of all of us, and I’m not gonna lie, I damn near shat bricks when he dropped like that.  It’s a bit scary.”  He perked up and smiled at Elliott with confidence.  “But he’ll be fine, he’s got you to look out for him.”

Blinking, Elliott needed a few seconds to process this compliment.  “I…pardon?  How am I in any way qualified to care for him?”

With an exaggerated eye-roll, Alex punched him in the shoulder playfully.  “Uh, because you love him?  Duh.”

“It takes more than just affection to provide assistance!”

“Then how are you _not_ qualified?”

This roundabout yet direct question was one that Elliott couldn’t easily answer.  “I…  I’m not a doctor, I…”

“Bro, it’s not like he’s got the plague or something, he’s just sick.  All he needs is someone to, well, take care of him.  It’s kinda a burden and all, but isn’t that what you do in a relationship?  That trade-off and stuff?  I mean, not to be an asshole, but he’s done a lot for you this last year, taking a day or two to keep an eye on him isn’t much a of a problem, is it?”  He thought about what he’d said and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Um, actually, now that I’ve said it, that was really rude.”

Elliott shook his head.  “No, it’s…”  He thought back on the year that they’d been together, what they had done, how far they had come…  Finally finding an honest smile, he chuckled.  “You’re right.  There’s really no good way to word it without sounding inconsiderate, but it is true, he has done so very much for me this year, all selflessly and happily.  It’s my turn to look out for him, to be his strength for a while.”

Before Alex could reply they hear a loud thump from the bedroom, and Elliott was in motion before he realized it.  Stopping suddenly in the doorway, he heard Alex’s footsteps quickly approaching as well.  Lysander was sitting on the floor, leaning against the dresser, hissing in pain with a hand to his temple.  With a gasp of shock, Elliott was in front of him in two steps and pulled him into a protective hug.  “Are you alright, dear?  Please, stay in bed, you aren’t well.”

Lysander attempted to break free, but he didn’t even have the strength to put up a struggle.  “I’m fine,” he mumbled, still trying to get his feet under himself and stand, “I just…  I…  It’s…”  Elliott saw him trying so hard to hold back tears and still be strong, and he felt a pang of pain and sympathy.  “Please, just go.”

Holding onto his shirt for support, Lysander was clearly close to breaking down, and he buried his face in Elliott’s chest even as he tried to support himself.  Elliott didn’t understand what he wanted him to do.  “Dear, what’s wrong?  Are you hurt?”

Somehow, this made it worse, and Lysander choked back a sob.  “No, I’m…  Just…  I…”

Brushing his partner's hair from his face, Elliott tilted up his chin to look him in the eyes, smiling softly.  “Talk to me, what is wrong?  Are you injured?”

Those warm hazel eyes were filled with pain, and the words he spoke were barely audible.  “…I don’t want you to see me like this…”  He tore his gaze away from Elliott’s, trying to hide the tears that were starting to flow and the color in his cheeks that was from humiliation and not fever.

_You are strong, my dear, too strong.  So much pride and dignity.  Trust me, give yourself to me and let me support you._

Elliott looked up over his shoulder at Alex.  Silently and in only a second, they exchanged a conversation, to which Alex nodded in agreement before he left the two of them alone.  Sighing but still smiling, he traced gentle fingers down Lysander’s cheek.  “What are you afraid of?  I won’t laugh or poke fun at you.”  Lysander still looked away, and Elliott brought his face back up, gently brushing aside tears.  “Dearest, look at me.  Part of being strong is knowing when to let someone else take care of things.  There is no shame in letting someone see you when you’re vulnerable.  Rather, it is a sign of trust.”

He remembered what Alex had said only minutes earlier and laughed quietly.  “Let me take care of you, be a bit selfish.  You pour your heart and energy into looking out for all of us.  Allow me to take on that burden for you, even just for a bit.”

Lysander shook his head vehemently, still reluctant to give in.  “I don’t want to be a burden on you, love, I-“

Tired of his protestations and knowing that he would simply have to strongarm him into submission, Elliott kissed him deeply as he held him as firmly as he could.  Lysander’s struggles increased, and he broke free, but only barely.  “You could get sick, don’t-“

“I don’t care,” Elliott stated, “you need this, dear.”  He protested once more, and Elliott glared at him.  “ _I.  Don’t.  Care._ ”  This time, Lysander allowed it, even leaning into and enjoying it, but he still seemed reluctant to give in.  Elliott knew that he’d have to fight dirty and reached back for a slightly more distant memory.  “Do you recall when I stayed up far too long in order to finish our novel?  And how you asked that if our roles were reversed if I would do the same for you?”

There it was.  That was the magic phrase, and he tried not to exhale with relief as Lysander sagged into his arms without resistance.  He carefully picked him up and returned him to the bed, trying to hide a smile at his partner’s obvious embarrassment at being tucked in like a child.

With a frustrated sigh, Lysander draped an arm over his face.  “I just wanted to get something to drink.”

Elliott finished pulling the sheets over him and squeezed his hand.  “Then I will get you something.  I have already started coffee, will that do?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “that’d be great, thanks.”  His smile was still embarrassed, but Elliott saw gratitude in it, and he squeezed his hand before leaving the room to pour everyone a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	65. Diagnostics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //It was supposed to be a 10 hour drive. It was almost 12. Also, I cannot retain Word formatting to AO3 or the SDV forums. WHAT. THE. F*CK. I am too tired for this bullshit, I'll find a permanent fix later, for now, I have to screw around and waste another goddamn half an hour fixing the proper goddan formatting I f*cking did correctly the first time because every goddamn website out there thinks it knows better than me and strips it. F*CK. YOU.//

For a lack of anything else to do, Alex had picked up the coffee press to see how it worked and if it could go any faster, but since it relied on simple entropy and semi-interesting chemical reactions, there was nothing to be done for it. As Elliott returned from the other room he put it down, giving him a searching look. “Looks like you two worked things out.”

Sighing and nodding, Elliott got a third cup from the cupboard before serving everyone. “We have reached an agreement, if not a complete understanding,” he remarked, pulling the milk out of the fridge and adding it to his and Lysander’s cups, “bloody stubborn man, it’s fortunate that he hasn’t been ill previously, as he’d work himself to death on his own otherwise. But then, that’s one of the things that we all find endearing.”

Alex shrugged and smiled in agreement as he took his cup, following Elliott as he took the other two to the bedroom. Upon seeing them return, Lysander tried to shift to get up, but the exertion triggered a prolonged fit of coughing that worried Elliott considerably. He put down both cups and went to him, but until Lysander regained control of himself there was little to be done. Breathing raggedly, he grimaced and nodded thanks as Alex assisted him, then relaxed into the pillows that Elliott had moved to give him support to do so. He grimaced again when Elliott waited for him to have the cup in both hands before he let go, but the irritation was directed at himself, not his partner.

Sighing deeply, he took a grateful sip. “Thanks, love, sorry to bother. You too, Alex, I owe you both.”

Elliott leaned over to kiss his cheek and picked up his own coffee. “It is no bother at all. And once the clinic opens we’ll have Harvey look you over and see what needs to be done.” He smiled warmly over the rim of his cup. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to enjoy our company.”

Blowing on his coffee, Alex’s grin was a little brighter. “Yeah, I carried your ass all the way from the plaza, so if you don’t listen to your boyfriend and get well soon I’m gonna be annoyed.” He rolled his eyes and laughed when Lysander shrank a little, looking embarrassed. “And don’t give me that apologetic look, bro, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

With a half-hearted shrug, Lysander smiled a little. “I was kinda wondering how I got back. You really carried me? Through all _that?_ I…” He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and finally smiled properly. “That was a hell of a distance, and in those conditions. Thanks again.”

“It’s all good, it’s not like we could have really run out there anyway. I’ll figure something out later. Right now, just chill and get better.”

 

They quietly conversed while they finished their drinks, though most of the conversation was carried by Alex and Elliott, as Lysander was busy trying not to have another coughing fit and instead focused on enjoying the hot, refreshing drink. Collecting their empty cups, Elliott returned to the kitchen, followed partway by Alex.

“I’m heading back home to get dressed,” he commented, sitting down to put his shoes back on, “I’ll drop by the clinic and grab the doc as soon as he gets here.” Standing, he stretched and rubbed his arms, knowing what awaited him outside. “Thanks for the coffee, that really helped.”

Elliott smiled in reply. “I will call him and let him know that you will be arriving so that you aren’t waiting.”

Thanking him, Alex opened the door, gasping at the sudden bite, despite being ready for it. “It’s stupid cold out there right now, we’re gonna hafta find some other way to get in cardio this time of year.” He grinned as he pulled the door closed. “See ya in a bit, bro.”

This casual, friendly departure made him feel welcome and accepted in a way that he hadn’t expected but was glad to have had experienced. He returned to the bedroom, feeling better in general. “Lysander, do you-”

His question fell upon unconscious ears, as Lysander had gone to sleep, breathing steadily, although there was a slight rasp to it that Elliott didn’t like. Nothing to be done for it just yet, though, not until Harvey could get there. Noticing himself in the mirror, Elliott decided to get changed into something more suitable. …Although, he did admit that this was quite comfortable. He fully understood his partner’s liking for this particular style and aesthetic. Those clothes went into the laundry bin anyway, and he changed into the clothes that he’d left there the day before. Another quick glance in the mirror told him that no, he did not need a shave, and only minimal attention with a hairbrush.

These personal matters of attire complete, he picked up his phone and went to the living room again, scrolling through his contact information for the medical clinic. He had added it after his fall on the bridge last winter, in case something like that should happen again, and he was glad for his foresight. Dialing, he felt the flutter of worry again, but stomped it down as hard as he could and put the phone to his ear. It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Good morning, Pelican Town medical clinic, Doctor Harvey speaking, how may I help you?”

Elliott sighed with relief that someone was there. “Doctor, it’s Elliott, can you… Do you make house calls?”

“To the beach? Oh dear, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

He could hear him reaching for a pad of paper and a pencil to take notes, and for a moment was confused before he realized what he’d implied and where he was. “No, not me, it’s Lysander. I’m at his home. He fell ill this morning when going out for his morning run with Alex.”

“Oh!” The pencil scratched quickly across the surface of the notepad. “It is simply illness? He has no other injuries?”

“None. He awoke briefly and was able to drink a cup of coffee, and he didn’t comment on any pain. I didn’t see anything when I got him changed out of-”

Oh gods, how could he just say that to someone like that?

…

Wait, why couldn’t he? Besides, Lysander _was_ his partner, wasn’t he? It was a safe bet that everyone in town knew that they were intimate but didn’t care. Why did he feel embarrassed to mention it? He shoved those thoughts aside as Harvey continued to take notes.

“…drank, coffee… I missed that last bit, say again?”

“Ah, that he was unconscious when Alex brought him in, and that when I changed him from his running clothes to something more comfortable I did not see anything unusual.”

“Mm-hmm.” The pencil continued to make its scritching sound as he wrote. “And you said that he was unconscious when Alex brought him back to the house?”

Sitting down on the couch, Elliott replayed his memories to be certain. “Correct. Apparently he awoke as usual to go out for his run, got changed to do so, but as he got to the place where he and Alex meet he was taken with a coughing fit and passed out. Alex brought him back and woke me when he did so.”

For a moment he had felt the embarrassed sting of admitting to sleeping with him, but shoved that thought away roughly as well. This was not the time! Besides, everyone knew and didn’t care. This was important, focus!

“Okay, I’ve got it. Is there anything else? Mucus, fever, rash-”

“No, none of- Wait, he has a bit of a fever, but nothing…else. It’s a dry cough.” He turned a little to look back at the bedroom. “He is asleep again, and he sounds as though he breathes well, but there is a bit of a sound to it that doesn’t sound normal.”

“Mmm, okay… Got it. I’ll pack my kit and be over as soon as I can.”

Elliott nearly slapped himself. “I almost forgot, Alex ran home to get changed, he said that he would drop by to pick you up so that you don’t have to walk.”

“That’s very thoughtful of him, I appreciate that a lot! I’ll keep an eye out for his truck. In the meantime, I’m forwarding the clinic number to my personal phone.”

Glad that he was sitting down, Elliott sagged with relief. “Thank you so much. I…”

“Don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for, Elliott,” he said with a smile in his voice, “just keep him warm until I get there.”

“I will. He’s sleeping now, I… I’ll go check on him again, I suppose…”

“I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

Sighing, Elliott nodded, then felt silly for the gesture that nobody could see. “Thank you again. See you soon.”

He hung up and set the phone on the coffee table, taking a minute to get his pulse to stop racing and his hands to stop shaking. Everything would be fine, he just needed to be patient. In the meantime, well, he might as well make himself useful. Getting up, he washed the cups and press and set everything to dry, then looked about for anything else that needed to be dealt with. There wasn’t much, as they’d already done most of it before they had left the day before, and they had gone straight to bed upon returning, therefore not making a mess of anything.

Doing what he could, he noticed the fire burning a bit low and went to put a couple of fresh logs on and to stoke it back to its original state. As he got to his feet, dusting off his hands, the door opened and Alex walked back in. He ducked to the side to allow Harvey entrance then quickly shut it behind them both. Fortunately, the mat in front of the door was large enough to accommodate them both, allowing them to remove their winter gear and boots covered in snow and dirt without tracking it everywhere.

Shaking his head, Alex hung up his coat and rubbed his arms again. “Dang, even though the road is paved to the door it’s still a mess out there. I’ll grab the shovel and clear the way to the main road for you in a bit.” This unprompted and kind gesture was another surprise, and Elliott protested it, only to have Alex wave it away. “Nah, it’s cool, I need to get in some exercise today, and this way I’m helping out a bit. You two are a bit out of the way out here.” He grinned at Harvey, who had gone to the kitchen to wash his hands. “Speaking of, thanks for the house call, doc.”

Having dried his hands, Harvey removed and cleaned his spectacles. “I do not normally do calls like this, but your distance from the rest of the town, this weather, and what you’ve told me of Lysander's condition, it’s best that I be the one to travel.”

Elliott strode to the bedroom, a bit more quickly than he had intended, but it was difficult to fight the surge of worry again. He was trailed by the other two, and he moved the chair in the bedroom to the side of the bed closer to his partner so that Harvey would have some place to sit. As Harvey took the offered space and set down his satchel, Lysander stirred a little. While Elliott wanted to go to him, to ask him how he was and see what he could do for him, he knew that he would just be in Harvey’s way, who would ask the same questions and more, and be able to do so much more. He retreated to the living room and sat on the couch once more.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he stared at the floor, trying to sort his thoughts, and felt the cushions next to him shift when Alex sat down next to him. “You doing okay, bro?”

His tone was genuinely concerned, and once again he was grateful beyond words for the athlete’s presence. “Yes, now that medical aid has arrived I can relax. I an trying not to smother or be obsessive, and know that it is simple illness that is not life-threatening, but at the same time…” He trailed off and bit his lip, still staring at the floor. He sounded silly and he knew it, what a fool Alex must think him.

“It’s okay, I understand where you’re coming from.” Blinking, Elliott looked up into Alex’s eyes and saw pain in there as well. “I watched mom waste away, and there was nothing I could do about it.” Oh gods, Elliott had heard of but almost forgotten all that Alex had been through growing up. And despite all of that, not only was he still a good person for it, here he was showing empathy for him, someone who had never suffered in remotely the same way! “Heh, I guess that’s why I’m so involved right now, I don’t want anything like that to happen again. Yeah, it’s just a cold, but it could get worse if he tries to do everything like he usually does, so we’ve gotta step in and make sure it doesn’t get that far.”

Elliott had no reply. This was his partner’s power, to draw in people around him and make them want to be better people, to do the right thing because it’s right and it needed to be done. He knew that he could never do this himself, that had he been left to his own devices he would be completely alone and friendless in that tiny cabin. But here he was, sharing a moment with someone who was so drastically different from him in every way yet offering genuine empathy because of the shared love for someone. Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, he nodded, and hesitated when reaching for Alex’s hand to offer a supportive, grateful squeeze. Seeing this, Alex snorted with amusement and was the one to perform the gesture on the writer, grinning at his honest surprise.

Unsure of what else to say, they lapsed into silence, but it only lasted a couple of minutes before Harvey returned, carrying his satchel, which he rummaged through on the coffee table. “As I surmised from your telephone diagnosis, just a minor chest cold, though if he isn’t careful it could develop into pneumonia.” Elliott gasped quietly, but blushed and bit his lip at the comforting squeeze from Alex again. _Might_ , not _would_. He paid attention as Harvey continued, but the doctor interrupted himself to glance between the two men. “Ah, what…relation…do you two have with him? I do not want to breach doctor-patient confidentiality.”

_Relation? Why does- Oh, that’s right, only direct family or spouses are normally allowed to know specifics about someone’s medical history and needs. …Of which I am neither…_

He and Alex looked at each other, and he saw the shrug in the set of his jaw; he knew that he likely wasn’t eligible to be privy to this information. As for himself… He sighed and shook his head. “Not proper relations, I must confess. Alex is his cousin, albeit a bit distant, and I am…” The words almost hurt to say. “Simply his partner.” Not a proper spouse, no, just someone that shared his bed and on occasion, his home. He didn’t really matter, legally. Looking at the floor, he chewed his lip, almost as painfully as the ache inside of him.

“You two are living together, correct?”

Looking up, Elliott realized that the question had been directed at him, but he didn’t understand what Harvey was talking about, and then he saw the sly smile almost hidden under the mustache. “That is correct,” he replied, not adding or subtracting anything. Technically, yes they were living together, though at each other’s homes alternatively, and…

“Ah, domestic partners, then, I am allowed to confide in you his medical needs and history.” Once more Elliott was very glad that he was already sitting, as his legs would have given out from under him. Harvey shrugged at Alex. “Apologies, Alex, but…”

Not the least bit bothered, Alex got up. “S’okay, doc. I’ll go and see how the ginger nuisance is holding up.”

Once the room was occupied by the two of them, Harvey pulled out his notepad and tore off a page containing copious notes, in a much neater hand than Elliott had been expecting. As the author skimmed them a couple of small, plastic bottles were set on the coffee table in front of him.

“It should run its course in a couple of days. As it’s viral I cannot give antibiotics for it, but I have prescribed these to help deal with the side effects of the cough.” He picked up one bottle and showed him the label. “One pill morning and night, make sure he takes it with food.” He put it down and picked up the other one, containing small packets of some sort of powder. “This one mix into tea or hot water or something and drink as needed. Otherwise, just make sure he stays warm and hydrated. No special dietary needs other than his usual ones, if any. Should symptoms worsen give me a call; I forward the clinic number upstairs after hours just in case of emergencies. He’s a healthy young man and will recover in two or three days.”

Holding the notes in both hands, Elliott stared at the bottles for so long that Harvey had to call his name twice to get his attention. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I… When you asked about our…status, I had worried that…”

“Nothing to worry about Elliott, I understand,” Harvey chuckled, closing up his satchel, “the rules are there to protect patients, but you’re not the first couple in this sort of situation, and there are rules for this sort of thing, too. He’s lucky to have you, I’m leaving him in good hands.”

For the second time Elliott was speechless, but he nodded and blinked back tears. “Thank you. I… If he’s awake, I’d like to…”

Nodding, Harvey picked up his bag as he stood. “He came around just as you walked out. He’s quite lucid and in a pretty good mood, given his morning so far.”

A bit quicker than he had intended to, Elliott put the notes on the table and set the bottles on it, just to make sure it didn’t get knocked away, and strode back to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	66. The Things We Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Okay, so good news and bad news. TECHNICALLY, I can get wifi. But it's not reliable and it's not in my barracks. I also have almost no cell coverage in there, either (they're so heavily built that the signal can't get in). Bad news is that because of that, posts will be difficult to upload, especially since it seems like I'm going to be quite busy and will be working some LONG hours. I can't complain, it's what they're paying me to do, but it looks like updates will be sporadic for a while. I'll upload as I get the time to write, but I'm not sure how much I'll have until the exercise gets underway and we have a better idea of what all needs to happen. I'll also be bouncing between two posts (long story...), and the other location doesn't have wifi anywhere that I saw, so we'll have to see what will happen. Thank you all so much for sticking with this story, sorry it's having to slow down JUST as it's getting close to the end. >_<//

Lysander was awake and sitting up, having reached for his phone, which he put down as Elliott walked in. He was wearing a paper mask to prevent the further spread of his cold, but despite that, Elliott saw the corners of his eyes crinkle the way that they always did when he smiled, and he couldn’t help but return it. Realizing that he had only a few items of clothing and nothing else that he needed, he turned to Alex and asked if he could also beg a ride home in order to get items for an extended stay.

Nodding, Alex agreed, as it would allow him to shovel the road when he got back. “Catch a nap, Lys, we’ll be back in a while.”

Elliott leaned over to kiss his partner on the cheek before heading back out to the other room to put on his own coat and gloves. As he spun through his mind what all he would need, he was joined by Alex and Harvey. In a minute they were ready and stepped out into the bitter cold. Elliott took the center seat since Harvey would get out first, and took the satchel so that he could get in in the first place.

“Thank, you again, doctor,” Elliott sighed, “this was so sudden, and I just…”

“Don’t worry, Elliott, it’s a minor cold and he’s quite resilient. Having you there will help him recover more quickly, especially given the work that he does.”

“The- Ah! I had forgotten!” He just now remembered the garden and all that needed to be done, and added a few more things to his mental packing list. “Yet again you have my thanks, there is much that I will need to accomplish in his stead. I wonder if I can manage it.”

They arrived at the clinic in a few more minutes, and Harvey thanked them for the ride before jogging inside out of the cold. The remaining two departed for the cabin, and there was terse silence before Alex sighed and rolled his eyes. “So what’s eating you, bro?”

Elbow on the door and chin in his hand, Elliott watched the town go by as he thought. “Recalling the conversation with the doctor, on the phone and then when being instructed on Lysander’s medical needs.” At his next lengthy silence, Alex prodded him again, and Elliott hesitated before answering. “I…still feel as though I am being judged for our relationship.”

“Whaddya mean ‘still?’ Nobody’s ever given you shit about it,” Alex replied, then gave him a look of concern, “have they?”

“Well, no, not directly. …Or, even indirectly, really, but…”

Sighing again, Alex punched Elliott in the shoulder. “Shit, you and Lys and your self-confidence issues. I’ve lived here _forever_ , bro, and I can tell that everyone is happy for you two, even if you are ‘outsiders’ and all. You’re good people and have done stuff for the town. Nobody’s judging you two for anything.”

A small smile returned, but Elliott didn’t quite feel reassured yet. “I know that you are right, but I have for so long had to maintain a certain face and status for the family and-”

“Bro, shut up and be happy about your amazing boyfriend already.” Elliott was without words and stared at Alex with surprise. “He talks about you all the time, you know.”

“…No, I didn’t know.”

Chuckling, Alex carefully drove over the bridge and parked next to the cabin. “When we go running in the morning, he’s always going on about something you’ve done, or something about your appearance that he likes, or just how freaking awesome you are to him, and I’m almost kinda jealous.”

Elliott nearly walked into the door before he opened it. “You…what?”

“No shit, bro, he gets this dreamy, happy look when he does it, too, like you’re the center of his world. He’s always talking about bits from your book that you did that he loves, or stuff about your personal style.” He followed the author inside and closed the door behind him, leaning against it as Elliott began to pack a backpack. “Hell, I learned quickly to ID the look he has when the two of you have had some completely _amazing_ sex.”

Elliott dropped the backpack and nearly tripped over it. “He- He what?”

With a hearty laugh, Alex smirked at him. “Oh _please_ , you know that look better than I do. And he wears it ALL morning. At first it was kinda embarrassing for him to basically show off how good you are, now it’s just annoying. It’s like, I get it, Elliott’s great in bed, shut up and run, bro, y’know?”

Still staring, Elliott almost stumbled over the backpack before he picked it up again. “I… Well, I suppose that I am a skilled and enthusiastic lover, but…” He cleared his throat and walked quickly into the bedroom. “My apologies for making you uncomfortable, I will ask him not to-”

“Oh my GODS, bro, shut up! I think it’s funny. You two really have no freaking idea how lucky each other is, do you? Just, anyone who looks at you knows you two are totally in love, and it’s so damn pure that I almost kinda wanna barf. Okay, you’re banging, so it’s not totally pure, but whatever. Oh what the hell,” he muttered, reaching for his phone, “I’m getting a shit-ton of Chatter messages.”

“I was noticing my phone buzzing incessantly as well,” Elliott, observed, and they both retrieved their phones to check the thread that had started without them.

**SixStrings:** just a heads-up, I caught the plague, won’t be able to make practice, not sure when I’ll be functional again

**RawkStar:** what? noooooo, you’re not allowed to die on us right after our debut! :(

**SixStrings:** chill, mate, it’s just a chest cold, I’ll be fine soon

**L33tK3ys:** sorry to hear about that, need anything?

**PurpleGoth:** clearly he needs a lap dance. Get on it, Sam

**RawkStar:** but he hasn’t taught me yet. you never taught me to pole dance, either, d00d

**SixStrings:** it’s your fault for not picking up a thong and pair of heels by now. This is all on you, mate

**L33tK3ys:** …this got weird very quickly…

**PurpleGoth:** my mascara is running OMG :’D

**RawkStar:** but where do i buy that around here? not like i get to the city much

**SixStrings:** nick ‘em from Haley, she’s got a few pairs extra

Alex and Elliott were chuckling at the exchange, and the athlete decided to enter the conversation.

**ProBro:** …how the hell do you know so much about the state of my gf’s underwear?

**SixStrings:** I didn’t until now :3

They laughed again at Lysander’s reply, and continued to do so when Haley chimed in.

**ShutterBug:** leave me out of this. Besides, I’ve got wayyyy too much boo-tay for him to wear my stuff and he’s not classy enough for any of my shoes ;)

**PurpleGoth:** #DYING XD

Wiping his eyes, Elliott decided that it was time to playfully reprimand his partner.

**SeasideScribe:** if you aren’t asleep by the time I return I shall be very annoyed

**SixStrings:** what’cha going to do about it, spank me? Didn’t know you were into that, love

Both men dissolved into helpless laughter as Sebastian voiced the opinion that everyone there was weird. “I should finish packing,” Elliott sighed, “the sooner I return the sooner that I can ensure that he is behaving himself.”

Knowing that he could launder his garments at Lysander’s home, he only grabbed a couple things that Lysander didn’t have that he required, then a book and his laptop. As an afterthought, he took the rose with him; it still needed care now and then, and it just felt... _right_ …

Alex brought them back to the house as quickly as conditions would permit, and he pulled a snow shovel and other equipment from the bed of the truck as Elliott went inside. Dropping his backpack inside the bedroom, he smiled to see Lysander curled up on his side, hugging a pillow, completely asleep. As quietly as possible he changed into work clothes, set the rose upon the kitchen table, and put on his coat again to go outside and dash to the greenhouse. There was work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	67. Of Friends and Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Oh gods, I've been gone so long! I wasn't expecting to take an extra week, but I got a bit ill after I got home from annual training, and then things just went wonky for another week. Took me way too long to get my creative mojo back. But I AM back, barring any other distractions. Hopefully I can keep up this schedule again until the end of book 3, but if I do end up doing a fourth one, I'm likely gonna back it off to twice or just once a week updating. But that's in the future. Now, we pick back up where we left off, with Elliott continuing to take care of our poor, sick, ginger nuisance. See you all again on Wednesday! :)//

Elliott rubbed his arms to get them warm again as he stood inside the door to the greenhouse.  He hadn’t brought a coat with him between the house and there, as it was just a short jaunt, but by Yoba, that wind still had teeth!  Looking around, he had a look at what needed to be harvested and tried to remember what it was that Lysander had done.  It wasn’t _difficult_ , it was that he’d simply followed directions and assisted as his partner had worked.  However, he found that it had already become a sort of muscle memory as he made his rounds, though to his relief, nothing needed replanting or major work.  He wasn’t inept, but he didn’t quite feel right in making major changes to that which wasn’t his.  Although…

He shook his head to dispel that thought.  As much as he did enjoy this home and Lysander’s company, it _was_ too early to consider anything long term.

…

Was it, really, though?

It took a moment for him to realize that he’d spaced out, and he laughed at himself as he set down the plant he’d been working with, shaking his head.  They did know quite a bit about each other, and they had similar life goals and plans for the future, and, well, they were quite compatible.  Hell, they’d already had their first major “fight” and overcome it, being stronger for the experience.  And now, strange as it was, he enjoyed the thought of taking care of his partner like this.  He knew that Lysander was somewhat embarrassed by the attention, but he appreciated it all the same.  How strange, the way he had fought so hard to do everything on his own, how hard it had been for him to relinquish control, but all it had taken was a few gentle words and he had surrendered without further resistance, almost gratefully.

It wasn’t long before he was done, and he cleaned up as best he could, packing up what he had harvested for collection and shipment.  As an afterthought, he left a note with it explaining Lysander’s temporary illness and his own contact information, should any questions arise.  Satisfied with his work, he darted back to the house and shivered a little once back indoors.  He took off his shoes and strode to the bedroom to check on his partner.  Lysander had just awoken, and he looked surprised to see him walk in wearing not only work clothes, but ones that had just been used.

Elliott smiled softly at him, glad to see that he was looking a little better.  “It is quite warm and lovely in there, but the cold from there to here is bitter and sharp,” he chuckled, trying to cheer his partner.

Blinking, Lysander sighed and shook his head.  “You took care of…  Thanks again, love, looks like I’m just racking up the favors to return.”

“It needs to be done, so I am taking care of it,” Elliott explained firmly, sitting next to him to remove the ribbon and retie Lysander’s hair, “do not concern yourself with debts and repayments.  I am happy to perform this task.”  He kissed the top of his partner’s head and smiled again.  “Rather, I find it pleasing, as previously I had no horticultural ability, and under your tutelage I am now capable of performing the errands that you manage daily.”

As the front door opened and closed, he mused aloud that it was likely Alex returning from shoveling the front walk.  He got up to greet him, but stopped in surprise to see all of their friends removing shoes, scarves, coats, and other garments.  “Oh, hello, I did not expect all of you to be here as well.”  Sam grinned as he darted past, dropping his backpack on the floor as he bounded onto the bed to hug his friend quite firmly around the chest.  Elliott chuckled and shrugged, following their energetic companion.

“Sweet PJs, I didn’t know you wore that style,” Sam commented, noticing Lysander’s new state of dress.  When Lysander replied that he normally didn’t, Sam tilted his head to the side.  “Why, what do you normally sleep in?”

“Elliott’s arms.”

Blushing deeply, Elliott gave his partner a look of amusement as their friends laughed, and he moved aside a little as Sebastian walked around him to rummage through Sam’s backpack for a soda, apologizing for Sam’s overenthusiastic state at the moment.

“He’s been wound up all week because of the snow and Jodi practically begged us to get him out for a bit.”  He also explained that Sam had had two sodas en route, but was corrected by the man in question that it had actually been three, therefore explaining his unusually chipper mood.

Frowning, Lysander remarked that he recalled that each of those particular drinks contained the amount of caffeine equal to or more than a cup of coffee, which was gleefully corroborated by Sam.  “Man, you are looking rough, dude,” he said, examining Lysander with interest, “hasn’t Elliott given you kisses or anything to make you feel better?”  When Lysander informed him in a patient tone that he didn’t want to give Elliott what he currently had (thankfully not mentioning that he _had_ actually “given him kisses” earlier), Sam put his hands on his face and gasped, faking overdramatic antics.  “What?  You’ve been deprived of smooches?  No wonder you’re dying!”  Nodding to himself, Sam made a determined face.  “Fine, I shall fall upon the sword of contagion myself.”  He grabbed Lysander by the collar with both hands, who watched him with a strange mix of boredom and amusement.  “Pucker up, buttercup, you’re going to enjoy this more than I will.”

With a quiet snort and a roll of his eyes again, Lysander politely rebuffed the offer, as while he appreciated the offer, it was something that Sam would likely regret later, which produced another overdramatic gasp.  “You’re turning down kisses?  This man is clearly not in his right mind.”  He began pointing at people around the room as he gave instructions, earning smirks and giggles as he did so.  “Elliott!  He needs a handy!  Abby!  Boobs in his face!  Sebastian!  …Stand there and smolder all sexy, it’s gonna be crowded over here.  Haley!”  He paused thoughtfully, glancing between her and Alex.  “I’m not asking anything of you ‘cause Alex will kill me.”

General merriment rippled around the group at all of this, but it did have the desired effect of getting Lysander to smile, thought it was difficult to tell under the mask.  The smile touched his eyes, however, and it was noticed and appreciated while he chuckled and rubbed his eyes.  “That all would be very nice but I couldn’t get it up if I tried, so the effort would be wasted.”  Sam smirked and hugged him again, grinding against him suggestively, but Lysander just sighed and chuckled again, remarking that no, it wasn’t doing anything for him.

“Gasp!” Sam replied, holding his friend at arm’s length, “alas!  Have I lost my sex appeal?”  With the equally snarky riposte that he had definitely lost something, Sebastian finished his drink, and Lysander provided further snark that it was himself, not his friend, that was the problem.  Once more he made with the theatrics, lamenting Lysander’s lack of desire or drive, and pulled the sick man closer, burying his face in Sam’s chest.  “So young, so beautiful, we hardly knew you,” he whimpered, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, then thought of something and released Lysander to reach for his phone.  “Wait, hang on a sec.”

As he tapped the screen, searching for something, Lysander tried to ask something, but was interrupted by Sam finding what it was he wanted, a funeral dirge, which began to play from his phone.  Sam pulled him back into the previous position, trying to remember where he had left off.  “We hardly knew you, sexy ginger man, you had so much life left to live, so many hot people to shag, so many bitchin’ concerts at which you could rock people’s faces.  Now it’s all gone, gone!”

Everyone else in the room was caught up in fits of laughter, and it finally made its way to Lysander, who was now laughing fit to burst as well, apparently having needed this release.  He thanked Sam for his attention and help, but upon trying to apologize for being a burden, Sam cut him off and threatened to tickle him, which did the trick, and offered to keep him company a bit longer, mostly because he had a captive audience, so Lysander honestly had little choice.

Still chuckling, Elliott wiped his eyes.  “I will allow it for a while, but not too long, he does need to take his medication and get some rest.”  Alex agreed, as he had been the one to bring his cousin back himself, and Sam laughed and smirked at them both, teasing that they were acting like overprotective parents.  This made both men exchange a look of surprise as well as another laugh.  “He is correct, we rather have.”  Once again, Alex agreed, and it was now Lysander who teased, having recovered enough to do so.

“If that makes Elliott the ‘mom’ then that means that I’ve got a massive Oedipus Complex going on and I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.”

Elliott dissolved into helpless laughter at this, and Alex helpfully supported him, gesturing for everyone to clear out of the room.  Once the three of them were alone Elliott had finally collected himself, and he retrieved the medication that had been prescribed, dosing it out for his partner.

“Oy, love, I know I just called you a ‘mom’ but you don’t need to take it this far,” Lysander giggled, reaching for the bottle, and Elliott playfully ignored him, instead tipping the pills into his hand.  He was about to get up to get a glass of water but apparently Alex had read his mind and walked in with one.  “Pfft, thanks, _dad_ ,” Lysander snorted, accepting the glass and momentarily removing the mask.  He washed down the pills and handed back the empty glass, replacing the mask, and Elliott kissed his cheek again, squeezing his hand.

“We’ll go take care of food.  Rest, dear, sleep.  I’ll wake you when we have something ready.”  The short burst of levity had apparently been welcome but draining, as Lysander nodded and shifted to get back under the covers.  Elliott pulled the sheets over him as he got comfortable, and couldn’t help stroking his hair a little, smiling when he saw the muscles on the side of his partner’s face shift, indicating a happy smile.

Alex was rubbing the back of his neck, watching everyone else as Elliott walked in.  “So, we’re gonna try to cook something?  Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

With another smile, Elliott began to pull out the items necessary for soup and began giving directions to everyone present.  “Of course it is.  The kitchen is large enough that we can all work without getting in each other’s way, and it will taste all the better for everyone’s contributions.”

While Abigail had plenty of experience in the kitchen, he thought it better to have her supervise others as well rather than work directly, so that someone else could get experience working.  He directed Sam to fill a pot with water and set it to boil as the start of the soup, assuming that it would be easy enough, but while he was retrieving a couple of other items he heard a shout of, “SHIT’S ON FIRE, YO,” from Sam.  Perplexed at both the energy of this statement, as well as its low-level vulgarity, he turned around and gaped to find that, indeed, something _was_ on fire, the pot of water.

“…How?...” he asked, confused, and Abigail groaned with frustration and put the lid on the pot to smother the fire, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“If you’re doing this to get out of helping I’ll kick your ass myself.”

Rubbing his shoulder, Sam pouted a little, though he did giggle.  “Man, I _wish_ I could do this on command, I legit have no idea what happened.  Um, uh, I’ve also no idea how to clean that up, either.”  He pointed to the small scorch mark that the fire had produced, and Elliott examined it.

“It can be dealt with, but later.  Let’s get you on a less…hazardous task, shall we?”  In short order, the bits and pieces for a hearty soup had been peeled, chopped, and otherwise reduced into the necessary parts to be cooked.  Everyone lounged around the kitchen table while Elliott sampled it, muttering to himself as he rummaged through the cupboards for the right spices, almost dropping the entire bottle of pepper into the pot when Sebastian laughed and commented on how well he knew Lysander’s kitchen.

“Seriously, dude, just move in already or something, you two are damn near married as it is,” he grinned, enjoying the chance to make fun of their usually stoic friend.

Elliott took a moment to compose himself as he set aside the pepper after tasting the broth again, grabbing another bottle of spices.  “It is still a bit early to consider such a thing.  I am not averse to it, but there are a number of things that must be discussed first, and I shan’t do so until he is fully recovered.”

“Oh gods,” Sebastian snickered, leaning back in his chair, “I was messing with you.  You’re really thinking about it?”

Pausing to think about the exchange, Elliott sighed and nodded as he put the lid on the pot and spoon on a saucer.  “Yes, I have.  It’s only natural, with how our relationship has progressed.  However, as I said, it is nothing that can be discussed any further until he had recovered, and even then…”

Sam rolled his eyes and cracked open yet another soda.  “As if he’d say ‘no.’  Bet’cha five bucks that if you asked him right now he’d take you up on it.”

Haley gave Sam an irritated sniff, giving the soda a look of disdain.  “It’s not nice to tease a sick man like that.  Though for once you _are_ right, Lys has it so bad, there’s no way he’d turn you down, Elliott.”

“It isn’t nice to tease the man taking care of the sick one!” Elliott replied, turning away to hide a sudden flush in his cheeks, “and as I said, it is too early.”

“When won’t it be?” Sam asked, for once looking serious.

Elliott hesitated as he opened a cupboard, pulling out glasses.  “…I…don’t know yet.”

He cleared his throat and set about pouring drinks for everyone, hastily changing the subject to a different conversation.  Since they all were there and had nothing much to do until the food was ready, they went over some ideas for upcoming songs and gigs, and did a bit of work on lyrics for a new piece that Sam was writing.  Eventually, the soup was finished, and Elliott took the first bowl into the bedroom for Lysander, setting it aside to gently shake his partner’s shoulder.

“Hnngh.  Mm, love?” he asked, slightly dislodging the mask as he sat up.

Removing the mask completely, Elliott set it aside and risked a quick, light kiss, which was accepted happily.  “I brought you something to eat, dear, it’s rather decent for a group effort.”  He handed over the food once Lysander was sitting upright.  “Oh, and don’t worry about the scorch marks, I’ll get to them soon enough, hopefully they’ll come out.”  Lysander had been just about to take a bite when he peered at Elliott with a mix of curiosity and concern, unsure as to whether he was joking.  “It’s alright, don’t worry,” he chuckled, patting his partner’s shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to reassure him.

“I thought I heard something,” Lysander mumbled around large spoonfuls of soup, eating quickly but clearly enjoying it, “and you definitely had a hand in this, it was a group effort but you led it.”

This praise filled Elliott with a greater joy than he had expected, and he watched with a smile as the soup seemed to evaporate.  Scraping the bottom with the spoon to get every last bit, Lysander sighed happily and handed over the empty vessel and reached for the mask.  “Damn, I want another bowl but I’m still wiped out pretty bad.  I swear I’m gonna marry you one day just for your cooking.”  Elliott nearly dropped the bowl as Lysander flopped onto his back, one arm thrown wide and the other one over his eyes, already beginning to doze off.  Setting the bowl on the dresser, he pulled the sheets into place once more as Lysander snored softly.

_…Sam was right.  Granted, he is exhausted and ill, but still, to suggest a thing out of the blue like that…  Perhaps it isn’t something too far away after all._

He retrieved the bowl and took it back to the kitchen, smiling to see that everyone else had already served themselves, and poured himself one as well.  As he sat down with his friends at the table, he looked around and felt another warm rush of happiness; they weren’t just friends, they were _family_ , too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](https://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	68. Domestic Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //So yeah, I've missed three updates. Freakin' wow. Long story, not very interesting, but the things that kept me from writing are finally being resolved, so I should hopefully _now_ be back on schedule again. I need to finish this story SO BAD. It should have been done by now, augh. Thank you all so much for sticking with me these last couple of months. Well, okay, I thank you for reading this in the first place, but extra thanks for being patient. See you all again on Friday, barring everything going pear-shaped _again_.//

Everyone departed once they’d finished eating, save for Alex, and Elliott tried to persuade him to go home as well, but the athlete wasn’t having any of it.  “Nah, I ate dinner, so I’m helping with the dishes, and I figure you want a bit more company while Lys is out cold.”

“…I cannot argue with that, no.  I am better than I was earlier, but until the first night passes I will continue to be concerned.  Thank you.”

They gathered up the various dishes and glasses that had been used and stacked them on the counter to be washed, and when Elliott began drawing water Alex once more stepped in.  “I’ll wash, you dry, I dunno where stuff here goes.  Unlike you.”  This was said with a cheeky grin, and Elliott huffed a chuckle and smiled as well.

“Very well, I accept both your help _and_ your direction.”

For a little while they cleaned silently, focusing on the task at hand, until Alex asked a casual question: “So, when’re you proposing to him?”  Elliott frantically juggled the glass he’d just dried and barely caught it.  “Um, heads-up, bro, but if you’re gonna break something, it might as well be a dirty one.”

“I-  What?!”

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s no sense in-“

“No,” Elliott interrupted, “about-  Why do you think I’d…”

Alex shrugged.  “Why not?  Like I said earlier, he’s always talking about you and stuff, and I’ve been watching you all night.  You’re always thinking about him, hunh?”

Turning the glass over in his hands, Elliott sighed and nodded, putting it away in the cupboard.  “Yes, I am.  He means so much more to me than even I can express.  And as you have insinuated, I am familiar with most everything in his home and am comfortable here.  …I would like to stay here more than just overnight, or for a couple of days while I take care of him.  But it is still too soon a thing to consider.”

“Eh, I guess so, you finally met each other’s family, so that’s at least one big step going for you.  I dunno what else you think you need to do, but I guess you still need to learn more about each other or something?”

Elliott accepted the plate that Alex handed to him but held it silently, letting it drip on the floor.  …What _was_ there to learn?  There was the usual simple thing like interests, favorite colors and foods, birthdays, and so on.  There was each other’s past of course, but…  They had already learned so much in their working on the novel and then just being around each other.  What else was there left that they needed to know or do?

He blinked and stepped back as Alex waved a hand in front of his face.  “Bro.  Broooo.  You still in there?”

“I…  Yes, I was simply considering your statement.”

“And?”

“…And there is little that precludes me from asking him to…”  He cleared his throat and hastily dried the plate, which was almost unneeded since it had mostly drip- and air-dried already.  “I have considered it, yes.  And he has mentioned interest in the possibility as well, although it appears to be more of an impulsive reaction or statement than something deliberately considered.”

Alex shrugged and handed over another dish.  “Isn’t that a good thing, then?  It’s all, what is it, since he doesn’t think about it it’s like, from the gut?”  He shrugged.  “You’re the writer, you’re the one with all the words.”

Again, Elliott considered this quietly as he dried what was handed to him.  “And despite that I have none, other than that you are correct.  Although I am amused, you seem to have a vested interest in our relationship.”

“Yeah, well, he’s family, and I promised I’d watch out for you both.”  Chuckling, he shrugged again and rinsed the soap off of his hands as he let the sink drain.  “He kinda gave me a second chance, y’know?  Anyway, it’s not like I’m, uh, what you said, vested.  It’s just funny.”  He dried his hands on another towel and hung it up, looking around the kitchen.  “Well, I’m off now, gimmie a call if you need anything else.  I’ll probably drop by again tomorrow if the road needs to be cleared again.  Aw, crap, we did use some stuff, you gonna need a lift to the store?”

The subject back to business of a sort, Elliott did a quick inventory.  “I would appreciate it, yes, I believe he was planning to go today at some point, but, well, you see how well that went.”

Alex put on his cold weather gear once more, gave Elliott a friendly hug, then waved as he left, closing the door behind himself.  Standing alone in the living room for a moment, Elliott rubbed his arms as he thought, replaying their conversation and thinking about how he had responded and why.  His gaze wandered slowly across the room until he saw the medicine on the table.  Damn, he’d almost forgotten!  Opening one bottle, he shook out the required dose, got a glass of water from the kitchen, and went to the bedroom, but didn’t turn on the light, as he didn’t want to wake him up completely.  Unsurprisingly, Lysander was asleep, though he did wake up much more easily than he usually did, so he hadn’t been that deeply asleep.

“Sorry to wake you, dear, but I’d forgotten to give this to you with your food.”

“Hmm?” Lysander replied, blinking at him blearily.  This lasted only a moment before consciousness, if fuzzy, asserted itself, and the smile that was hidden by the mask turned up the corners of his eyes. “Hey love, thanks.  I forgot, too.”

With help he sat up, then removed the mask to accept what was offered, consume it, and sigh heavily, which made him cough furiously.  He still had the control to at least cough into his sleeve, though, and slumped forward, feeling quite weak.

“Do you think you can rest through the night without difficulty?” Elliott asked, wondering if he would be kept up by random fits.  He sat down next to his partner and brushed his cheek with his fingers, which Lysander leaned into with a smile.

“Mm.  Yeah.  Just gotta breathe carefully for now, ‘specially without a mask, cooler air seems to screw me over.  Shit, it’s late,” he remarked, looking out the window, “how are you gonna get home?”

Elliott smiled as Lysander put the mask back on.  “I _am_ home, dear, wherever you are is where I want to be.”  This produced a slightly embarrassed blush, but Lysander looked pleased.

“Yeah, you did say earlier that you were getting stuff to stay a bit.  I totally forgot.  And yeah, it’d be kind dumb to keep going back and forth if you’re…”  He blushed again, but this time looked guilty.  “If you’re taking care of me.”

“Dearest,” Elliott sighed, smiling as he hugged him and stroked his hair, “how many times must I say it?  I do not mind.  I am happy to do so.”

Lysander put his arms around the other man’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder, shuddering a little at a pleasant tingle when Elliott’s fingers brushed his neck.  “Yeah, I just…  Look, I understand, love, and I appreciate it.  So much.  It’s just old habits and stuff, and, well…  I just feel a bit weak and silly.  I know it’s silly to feel like that, and I’m trying to, whatever, change my mind, y’know?”  He got silent for a moment, burying his face in Elliott’s chest.  “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to let my guard down like this before.  To let someone get this close.  I…”  His grip was weak, but it still tightened around Elliott a bit.  “I’m scared to lose you.  This just kinda made me aware of the fact that someday we’re both going to…”

The front of his shirt got a bit damp as Lysander began to cry again, his shoulders shaking gently as he tried to hold back.  Elliott kissed a small line up his partner’s neck, under his ear, and across to his cheek.  “I know.  Everything must perish in time.  But we are both here, so let us live in this ‘now’ we have together.  Sleep and recover knowing that I will be here for you at any time.  Do not hesitate to wake me should you need anything.”

Nodding, Lysander eased himself back down with Elliott’s help, fumbling to pull the blankets back over himself.  “…Thanks, love.  I will.  But you get some sleep, too, don’t worry about the garden and stuff, just get to it whenever you wake up, okay?”

“I shall.  Good night, dear.”

Elliott retrieved the empty glass and left, putting it in the sink and unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt.  Grabbing his bag, he changed into some sleep wear in the living room.  Like his partner, it wasn’t something he wore often, but in the case of unexpected company, and sleeping on the couch, he thought it prudent to wear something.  He draped his clothes over the back of a chair, unsure of where else to put them for the moment, then spread the blankets over the couch.  A yawn suddenly consumed him as he reached for the pillow that he’d taken from the bedroom, and as he got himself comfortable he discovered that he was much more tired than he thought.  Just as he was dozing off he remembered that he hadn’t plugged in his phone and had to get up momentarily to do so.  Returning to his place of rest, he got comfortable once more and was asleep almost before he pulled the blanket over himself.

Despite his unexpected exhaustion, Elliott still rose at the time that he usually did, though he did experience a moment of confusion at waking up on the couch at Lysander’s home, as somewhere in the back of his mind he had expected to be back in his bed at the cabin.  Changing again in the living room into fresh clothes, he took the garments from the day before and the blankets from the couch, putting them all in the laundry room to deal with later.

First point of order was to get a bit of food and medication into Lysander.  As he reached for the bottle of medicine, mentally queuing up what he needed to do, he realized that he should have just changed into work clothes for the garden and not his good ones.  Sighing and rolling his eyes at himself, he pulled some of the leftover soup out of the refrigerator and warmed it up, as though neither of them really ate breakfast, this was a bit of an exception to normal circumstances.  Not an exception, Lysander was awake as well, flat on his back and somewhat sprawled out, looking quite annoyed.

“I did not expect you to be awake yet, dear, are you alright?” Elliott asked, setting the soup on the dresser and pulling the bottle of medicine from his pocket.

“Yeah, just, guess my internal clock is set to always go off at this time,” he sighed, somehow managing a shrug, “not like I can get up and do anything, so I was trying to figure out if I should try to go back to sleep or just be awake for a bit and read or do something on my phone or whatever.”  He accepted Elliott’s help once more in sitting up, leaning back against the pillows that had been shifted to provide support and happily removed the mask as Elliott handed over the soup.  “Though this will totally hit the spot, I was actually feeling a bit hungry.  Might be able to crash out again after, too.”

Elliott began removing the garments he’d just put on less than a half an hour previous, reaching into the closet for fresh work clothes, and Lysander watched him with immense satisfaction while he ate.  Noticing this, Elliott gave him an amused smile.  “Do that, I’ll take care of the garden once more, and once Alex is free later we will restock the pantry.”

“Mm, bugger, thanks,” Lysander replied around large spoonfuls of soup, “I wanted to do that yesterday, buuuuut…”

“As I had surmised.  Is there anything in particular that you might like for lunch?”

Scraping the bottom of the bowl for every last drop, Lysander scrubbed his sleeve across his chin as he thought.  “Nothing in particular.  Something spicy would hit it, though.”

Finished with getting changed, Elliott took the bowl and kissed his partner’s cheek before the mask went back on again.  “That sounds lovely for a cold winter’s day.  I’ve got an idea of what would be satisfying for us both.  Well, I shall return once chores are completed.  I’ll try not to wake you when I return to clean myself up.”

 

He didn’t wake his ill companion when he returned from the greenhouse, and took a shower less to clean up and more to warm up.  Once dressed properly (again), Elliott put on his boots in anticipation of leaving and made a quick shopping list, but when answering the door at a knock, expecting Alex, he staggered as Sam bounded him and hugged him around the waist.  Elliott gasped both in surprise at the visitor and shock at the cold, and Sam laughed as he stepped back and began disentangling himself from his scarf and coat.

“Hey dude!  Is Lys still out of it or is he up?”

“Ah, he was asleep last I checked, but-  Never mind, then,” Elliott sighed as Sam trotted to the bedroom after having haphazardly tossed his coat and scarf onto the rack and ditched his shoes by the door.  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Elliott couldn’t help but giggle at the shout of, “hey dude!  Your bestie is here!  How ya feeling?” followed by a muffled yelp of irritated confusion from Lysander, who likely had been woken by Sam pouncing him.  His assumption was correct, as Lysander shot him a look of tired patience, trapped under his friend who was sitting astride him again, hugging him before sitting up to muss up his hair, which produced another strangled noise of rage.  Before Elliott could say anything, another knock prompted him to return to the door.  This time it was Alex, who looked at the coat on the rack with curiosity, then recognized the style.

“Hoo boy, Sam’s here.”

“Correct.”

“Well, I guess Lys isn’t getting any sleep for a while.”

“A safe assumption.”

Returning to the bedroom, Elliott saw that Lysander was trying to sit up, but between his weakness and Sam’s weight he was completely unsuccessful.  “Love, I’m going to kill him when I get better.”

With a shrug and a smile, Elliott walked over to kiss him on the forehead and remove the ribbon that held his hair back, as between sleep and Sam his hair was a bit of a mess.  “Well, feel free to try while I’m gone, Alex and I are off to the store.  But be advised that the ground is too frozen to dig a hole and I think that any animals that could help you dispose of a body are all hibernating.”

Lysander’s irritation melted away with laughter, and he shook his head, jabbing a finger into Sam’s midriff.  “Fiiiiine, I’ll murder his ass in the spring, happy?”

“Really?” Sam smirked, “I thought you usually murdered _Elliott’s_ ass.  Ohhh!”

Rolling his eyes, Lysander sighed deeply with frustration, but appeared surprised by Elliott’s sudden grin.  “Oh, you’re quite wrong, Samson,” Elliott remarked, putting on his coat, “ _I_ am normally the one who ‘murders his ass.’ Ask Alex, apparently I’m quite good at it.  Back later!”

Elliott almost couldn’t keep himself from bursting out laughing until he was outside, and even then had to muffle it in his scarf, which he hadn’t put on yet.  The door closed and Alex stepped onto the porch, giving Elliott a look of amazed delight.  “That is one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard, bro, and I never expected it from you.  Fistbump, that was awesome, wish I could have seen Sam’s face.”

Returning the gesture, Elliott laughed again as he wrapped the scarf around his neck.  “It was almost as funny as Lysander’s.  Oh my, I cannot believe I said that.  But…”  He picked up the shopping bag and carefully picked his way out to the truck.  “But at the same time it felt liberating in a way.  I am still myself, the person I have always been, but I am more now.  I’m a bit more free with myself and my friends, and I’m so glad for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	69. Recovery and Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //The last time this was updated was back in August of 2017. I am so, SO very sorry. The short of a long, depressing story is that everything crashed and went to hell: mental health, physical health, life, career, hobbies, social life, you name it. To be quite frank, I'm honestly rather surprised to still be alive at this point. But that's not anything that anyone needs to worry about, or something I want to bother any of you with. What I _do_ want to do is not only apologize for my absence, but to profusely thank any of you who come back to read this. I'll be slow going; just like any injury, it takes a while of practice and therapy to get back to where you were in the first place. I've done some minor writing and some RP with friends (my FFXIV version of Lysander has gotten some nice development, and his backstory is here on AO3 if you want to catch that), but it's taken me a bit to remember how this world and story goes. I'll update as I can, hopefully twice a week, at least once a week.
> 
> Also, during my "recuperation" I've been jotting down notes for a fourth book, taking place shortly after Vox Arcana. I want to pursue it, but that all depends on if 1) I ever finish book 3, and 2) there's any interest. Once more, many, MANY apologies, and thank you all deeply for returning.//

Alex’s phone rang just as he grabbed for the door handle, and he answered it as he swung into the cab and closed the door against the cold.  “Hey grandma, what’s up? Uh-hunh.  Oh, cool, thanks!  I’ll drop Elliott at the store real fast and be right back.  A’kay, cool, love you too.”  He hung up, put the phone in a cup holder and buckled up, which Elliott had already done.

“It appears to be a busy morning for you already,” Elliott observed as the engine turned over.

“A bit, I need to run by the house real fast, y’mind if I drop you off and pick you up when you’re done?”

Elliott smiled and shook his head.  “Not a bother at all.  I don’t need terribly much, so I should be all of five or ten minutes at most.”

No new snow had fallen in a few days, so any route that had been shoveled were safe to walk or drive upon, as there was no ice or anything that could cause falls or trouble.  Alex stopped at the store to let Elliott out, and the author stood aside while Alex drove off before entering the store.  He sighed with relief at the warmth inside, and unwound his scarf and removed his gloves, putting them into his pockets while he slung the shopping bag over his shoulder.  As he had said, he knew exactly what he had needed, and even with a bit of pleasant small talk with Pierre, he had been right about his timing. Paying for his groceries, he picked up his bag and smiled when Abigail walked over, grinning when she saw him.

“Oh, hey, Elliott, you’re heading back to Lys’s place?”

Hefting the bag over his shoulder, he nodded.  “Correct, I needed to make a quick run for supplies.  He is awake right now, and Sam is…keeping him company.”

Abigail laughed at the mental image of this and folded her arms across her chest.  “If Sam’s there then Lys is probably close to begging for the sweet release of death right about now.”

“That would be unsurprising.”

“Hey, mind if I head back with you?  I was gonna drop by anyway, figure I might as well give you the company.”

With a glance at the door, Elliott thought about it for a moment.  “The both of us would enjoy that, but Alex gave me a ride down here, and he should be back right now if he isn’t here already.”

“Oh shit, really?” she asked, ignoring the disapproving look from her father for her language, “lemme get my coat real fast.”  She disappeared at a flat run, returning in half a minute, pulling on a coat as she held her gloves in her teeth and a scarf draped across her shoulders.  “Cool, got my stuff, let’s go.  Back later, dad!”

The extra passenger was unexpected but not a bother, and in fact useful, as Alex had picked up his own cargo.

“Freakin’ yes, cookies!” Abigail exclaimed, holding the plate in her lap once she had buckled herself in, “your grandma is the _best_.”

Elliott was next to get seated and buckled, and Alex pulled away, heading back to the farm.  All three of them were almost ravenous from being trapped in the cabin with freshly-baked cookies like that, and it took no small amount of willpower to not tuck into them immediately.  The truck parked, they dismounted and let themselves into the house, taking a moment to remove excess garments.

“Love, you’re back?” asked a weak, slightly-muffled voice from the bedroom.

“ _We_ are, yes,” Elliott replied, stepping aside to let Abigail trot past him.  He heard her and Sam enthusiastically greet each other, and grunt of exertion, likely from Abigail giving Lysander a boisterous hug.  Having hung up his garments, he poked his head into the bedroom to find that, like Sam had done earlier, she was draped across him and ruffling his hair.  Elliott smiled at the look of “please help me” that Lysander gave to him.  “I picked up a passenger on the way home, dear,” he chuckled, “I’ll let the three of you have fun while I put away the groceries.”

“Is this karma?” the sick man asked, “’cause I’m not sure what I did but I already regret it.”

Elliott laughed warmly and picked up the shopping bag, going to the kitchen to unload it. The cookies were on the kitchen table, and Alex was trying to start some coffee to go with it.  “Hey, so, I put on some water, but I don’t remember how much coffee to add.  We usually use an automatic coffee pot at home.”

Quick instructions were given as Elliott put away some things and pulled out others, getting ready to make lunch.  Having smelled both cookies and coffee, Sam bounded into the kitchen, looking hopeful.  “Awww yeah, granny Evie’s cookies, having you all as besties kicks _ass_.  Can I grab one now?”

“Go right ahead,” Elliott replied, “coffee will be ready in a minute, and lunch in about half an hour, less if I have assistance.”

Sam paused as he reached for a cookie.  “I _could_ help, but I don’t wanna set the kitchen on fire again.  What’cha making?”

“Curry.  He requested something spicy, and it is quick and simple enough to make.”

“So in revenge for setting the kitchen on fire you’re setting _me_ on fire?  Eh, fair enough.  What can I do?”

Surprised at how quickly and enthusiastically Sam had volunteered, Elliott was slow to reply at first, but found a few things with which Sam could assist, and as soon as Abigail had also left Lysander alone, conscripted her as well.  She glanced at the cookies and coffee and gestured to the bedroom.  “Go spend a bit of time with him, Elliott, I’ll get a couple of things prepped for you.”

Without further prodding he poured two cups of coffee and put some cookies on a saucer to take with him.  Lysander initially shot him a tired glance but immediately perked up when he saw who it was, and especially so when he saw what was in his hands.  “Oh wow, I _thought_ I smelled something great.  I’ve got to send Evelyn a card or something.”

The sweet snack did good things for his spirits (though they were already better for his friends visiting), and he picked up his phone to tinker around when Elliott collected their empty cops and the saucer.  “Lunch will be ready shortly.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“I thought that a curry would hit the spot.”

“…You are amazing, love.”

Elliott returned to the kitchen once more and found that everything was ready for him to cook, and his three “assistants” had gathered around the table for drinks and cookies.  In short order, lunch was made and served, appreciated by everyone.  Lysander ate two plates with immense satisfaction, already looking better.  Abigail and Sam caught a ride back into town with Alex after lunch once they helped with cleaning up, and Elliott was left to himself in a suddenly-quiet house.  He didn’t mind it, as the company and help had been useful, but he was glad for a bit of a respite.

Checking in on his partner once more, he was relieved to see him sleeping again and stifled a yawn of his own.  He unbuttoned his waistcoat and set it aside to lay back down on the couch for a nap, finding himself unexpectedly tired.  This lasted until late afternoon, when Xander woke him, patting him gently on the cheek with one claw slightly out, the way he always did when he wanted food and they were asleep.  Sighing, he got up to feed their pet and start on dinner, then stopped short as he considered that thought again.

 _Their_ pet, not simply Lysander’s…

 

The next day was much as the one before it, with Sebastian dropping in this time, and the next day had Haley visiting.  Alex stopped in to help again both days, and Elliott found himself settling into a strange but comfortable routine.  Lysander was no longer reticent about accepting everyone’s assistance and was looking better every day.  The evening of the third night Elliott felt a bit lazy and couldn’t be bothered to change into the sleepwear, simply discarding his waistcoat and flopping onto the couch.  It was a comfortable one, so he didn’t mind it, and he knew that Lysander needed a bed to himself to recuperate, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss being there for him.

He felt something gentle brush across his face and woke blearily.  Lysander was sitting next to him, drawing back his hand, looking a little sheepish.  Apologizing for waking him, the recently-recuperated man urged Elliott to go back to sleep, but seeing his partner back to health wiped away any last vestiges of sleep, and upon observing it he earned a smile of relief that sent a warm rush of contentment through him.

“If you hadn’t been here I’d still be sick, and likely worse,” Lysander sighed, holding Elliott’s hand against his face, “thanks for everything.  I know you don’t want repayment, but I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

This touch, Elliott had ached for it for only a few days, but it felt as though it had been months.  His partner’s breath was that of teeth unbrushed for several days, his clothes rumpled and worn from sweating and thrashing about from fever, and his hair disheveled and matted with sweat, but he didn’t care, he was ecstatic to know that Lysander had completely recovered and the knot of worry in his chest and tension in his gut finally released their grip, flooding him with relief.

Suddenly, he was caught with the need to do more than just touch him, and his smile reflected it as he hugged his partner close, delighting in the gasp he received as he nibbled on the ginger man’s ear. “Then I shall demand payment in your touch. It has been half a week since I could hold you, and even longer since I have been able to have you.”

Lysander found Elliott’s intimate affection amusing but welcome, and as neither of them wanted to wait, began undressing Lysander right then and there.  It was a quick affair, just enough to sate their desires for the moment and make up a little for lost time, but that didn’t stop them from taking a very extended shower as well.  (Though in fairness Lysander _did_ feel particularly filthy after three days sick and enjoyed the luxury of Elliott’s gentle massaging as well as the hot, humid air that helped to clear the last of the congestion from his lungs.)

Even after getting cleaned up, Elliott tried not to be clingy, but found it difficult to _not_ touch or hug Lysander in some fashion.  Lysander returned from putting the bedding in the laundry and commented upon it, laughing as Elliott held him from behind and nuzzled his neck, sighing with contentment.  “Can you begrudge me the desire to make up for lost time in showing you affection?” he asked, once again nibbling on an ear, and smiling at the giggle it produced.

“Not at all, and you’re not the only one feeling energetic.  After it’s light enough to see I want to get back into the greenhouse and take care of things, then walk with you back to your cabin.  I figure you want to get back, at least to drop off everything you brought up here.” He sighed and stretched his arms over his head. “And I need a walk so bad.  It’s ugly and cold out, but I’ve been stuck in bed too long and need to stretch my legs a bit.”

Nodding, Elliott put on a clean work shirt.  “Much as I have enjoyed my stay here, it is time to return.  Fortunately, your garden hasn’t suffered as much as you might fear, as I have done what I can.  There is much I did not do but that was a lack of certainty as to what you’d like done, not due to apathy.”

It was his turn to smile when Lysander hugged him around the waist.  “Thanks, love, that’s a load off of my mind.”

He finished dressing in less than a minute, shrugging into a warm coat while Elliott did the same, and the both of them winced at the bite of the chill compared to the warmth that they had just left.  While Lysander had been reassured by Elliott’s statement, he didn’t completely relax until he’d had the chance to make a quick patrol of the greenhouse.  The things about which Elliott hadn’t been sure to tinker with he asked about, and Lysander was happy to fill him in.  The author allowed himself a smile that not only had he done well in anticipating his partner’s expectations, but that he’d done a decent job of what he had harvested.

Bundling up again, they returned back to the house, though the copper-haired man did linger a little.  “You know, I really do want to put in roses one day, over there, I’m thinking.  They’re supposed to thrive in this climate.”

Elliott couldn’t help but grin as he slipped an arm around Lysander’s waist for a quick hug.  “That they do,” he chuckled, and the other man grinned right back in response, recognizing the subtle nod.  He then remarked aloud that Elliott had brought his rose with him and that it seemed to be healthy.

“The both of us required skilled and dedicated care, and we now bloom with vigor and beauty,” replied Elliott, opening the door for them both, and laughing at the eye-roll that Lysander gave him.

“ _Beauty_ , hunh?” he smirked, hanging up his coat, “you’re more handsome, I think, but I will happily take credit for both of you doing so well.”

Partway through getting undressed Lysander remembered the laundry and darted out of the room to put the sheets in the dryer, and by the time he returned Elliott was halfway dressed himself, carefully buttoning up his shirt.  “I have everything ready to leave,” he commented, fastening the buttons on his wrists, “everything was re-packed as soon as I was done with it, so I wouldn’t leave belongings scattered everywhere.”  The waistcoat was next, which he shrugged into as he left the room.  “I’ll get ‘suited up,’ take your time, dear.”

Lysander wasn’t far behind him,  tying his hair back haphazardly as he had a certain lack of buttons comparatively.  “Good to go, love, just need boots and all of the stuff I need to not freeze off what little of an ass I have.”

The morning was a little brighter but no less cold as they walked, and while Elliott didn’t mind it as much as his partner did, he noticed that for once Lysander was less annoyed by it, having been cloistered for several days as he had been.  Holding hands and each carrying one backpack, they walked without hurry, enjoying both the silence and each other’s company.  In short order they were at the cabin, but their stay lasted the time it took to drop the bags just inside the door.  Elliott did, however, take a moment to carefully put the rose back on the table, glad that it had survived the journey back and forth.

It was still just early enough that the town was still collectively asleep for the most part, so the only sounds were that of waves breaking upon sand, the whistle of wind as it encountered something around which it could blow, and the soft crunch of boots in chilled sand.  The mutual silence was unbroken as they strolled, delighting in the scents and flavors that their environment provided for them.  Then, Lysander broke away to investigate something that shone with a reflected flash of light.  Excavating the half-buried item, he made a noise of interest, holding up a large seashell.

“Oh nifty, look at that, what’s it called again, ‘mother of pearl,’ if I remember correctly?”  Elliott peered at the smooth, pearlescent object and nodded assent, just as intrigued.  “That’s lovely, and a big one, too.  That reminds me of something…”  Handing it over to Elliott, he put his elbow in his hand and his chin in the other, trying to recall something.  “Oh yeah, some old tradition here in town that grandpa told me about ages ago.  Something about a legend or a tradition called a ‘Mermaid Pendant,’ supposed to have been used for engagements, I think.”

Elliott almost dropped the item, barely able to suppress a chuckle while he hid a smile.  He had been thinking of the same thing!  Lewis had told him about the same legend the year previous when he’d been collecting stories while learning about the town, and then the seed of an idea sprouted roots just as Lysander crossed his arms across his chest, still thinking.

“Damn, it’s been forever, and I was too young to appreciate it at the time, so I didn’t pay much attention.  I guess I’ll have to ask dad or Lewis, ‘cause it’s gonna itch at me until I remember.”  Something occurred to him and he turned quite red as he waved his hands at Elliott.  “I-!  That is, I didn’t mean that-  I just remembered something and had to chase the thread and-“

Unable to hide the smile any further, Elliott allowed it to take over, feeling a rush of warmth, knowing that his partner had considered the same thing.  “It’s fine, my dear, I understand,” he reassured, taking one of Lysander’s gloved hands and kissing it, “your life is dedicated to knowing and telling stories, so it is natural that you’d remember something like that when finding an item like this, as well as being perplexed from being unable to recall the entire tale.”  Suddenly feeling mischievous, an idea came to him.  “I would like to hear of this local legend as well, it sounds unique and intriguing.  Though you are delightfully cute when flustered.”

Ah!  That smile!  Lysander blushed even harder, but that sunny, loving smile was proof that he was delighted by Elliott’s words.  Clearing his throat awkwardly and straightening his coat, Lysander suggested that they resume their walk, and in doing so did not see Elliott surreptitiously pocket the shell.  Trying to change the subject, the musician wondered aloud what would be a good idea for dinner that night as they continued down the beach.  Elliott listened with half an ear and murmured responses as he thought, rubbing the shell with his thumb.  He had an idea…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	70. Friendships Realized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Getting the hang of this "writing" thing again, and I seem to still be pretty good at it! It is also half past four in the morning, so I'm'a go to sleep now and check for errors when I wake up. XD//

Lysander still had energy left, but not enough tolerance for the cold, so after another half an hour he dragged Elliott back into town.  They ended up going back to Lysander’s house for a quick coffee to warm up, so Lysander could message the band via Chatter, and to retrieve Resonance, which he’d totally forgotten that morning.  While he put together the coffee Elliott surreptitiously messaged Leah, asking if she might be free the next day to discuss a project.  He was almost unable to hide both her reply and his smile as he got a positive and enthusiastic response.  They sipped their coffee, wincing a little at the pain of sensation returning to cold-numbed fingers and toes.  Lysander also took the time to pack a quick overnight bag as well, voicing his intent to stay the night with Elliott.

“I can’t be assed to put the sheets back on the bed right now, and I’ve already spent three or four days in it.  Not for _fun_ reasons, either,” he justified, putting his coat and cold weather gear back on again.  Elliott insisted upon carrying his bag since Lysander had Resonance, and while the copper-haired man initially resisted, playful, warm kisses finally convinced him otherwise.  “Oh fine then, be a caring boyfriend.  Let’s get going.”

Practice usually happened later, but everyone was up earlier than usual for various reasons, so they converged upon the community center right around the same time shortly after lunch.  Lysander unlocked the front doors and strode in quickly, rubbing his arms.  “Sodding hell, I’ll never get used to winter.  The wind’s got teeth, and nothing I wear seems to keep it out.”  He took off his coat and gear, hanging it up, then wandered over to the table.  Just as Elliott had divested himself of his own coat he nearly got hit with the door as it swung wide, admitting not only a rush of cold air but the rest of the band.  Lysander’s initial grimace at the chill was quickly replaced at the sight of his friends, and he put Resonance down, sitting on the edge of the table instead of properly on a chair.  Elliott made a mental note to try to get him to break that habit one of these days, mother would have a conniption fit if he did that at her house…

Sam made a beeline for his friend, shedding gear and items as though they were being ablated off of him.  He hugged Lysander around the waist and buried his face in his friend’s chest for a moment, giggling happily.  “You’re alive, dude, whoo!”  Pulling away a little, he gave him his customary electric grin.  “Sorry about the kitchen, we really weren’t trying to make a mess, it just happened.”

With a shrug, Lysander hugged Sam to himself again, giggling.  “I just want to know how you and Haley managed to burn _water_.  I mean, damn, that takes talent.”  Sam was the next to shrug, professing honestly that the method was unknown to all of them, and that he regretted not being able to get photos before Elliott had extinguished the blaze.  “Well, no harm, no foul,” Lysander sighed, sweeping the room with his own smile, making it just a bit warmer in there.  “Thanks for dropping in to visit, all of you, I really needed the company, even if I could only take it in small doses.”

Putting his fists on his hips, Sam looked pleased with himself.  “S’all good, dude, it feels great that we were able to do _something_.”

Elliott recognized the smile of pure mischief that his partner wore, and he folded his arms across his chest as he smiled to himself, wondering what sort of shenanigans that he had in store.  Tapping Sam on the forehead, Lysander pouted in mock insult.  “And I distinctly recall you offering kisses to help me get better.  Really now, you _wanted_ to get sick, or did you know that I’d turn you down because of it and therefore felt safe in your suggestion?”

Yet again Sam shrugged, trying to look bored.  “Eh, I thought it would be funny and that you needed a laugh.  Besides, I’ve already kissed you before and it wasn’t anything special.”

Biting his lip and hiding a smirk behind his hand, Elliott saw the flash of insulted challenge flicker across Lysander’s face before that old, flirty, dangerous smile appeared.  “Is that so?  Nothing special?  I’m almost insulted.”  With delicate movements, he slowly ran his fingertips along Sam’s jaw, starting along the shell of his ear and stopping just under his chin.  Sam had _not_ been expecting anything like this, nor had he ever thought he’d be on the receiving end of one of those smiles.  Now intrigued, Elliott watched the exchange with fascination, seeing from the outside to which only he had ever been privy, and he could see how he had fallen for it; the way his eyes crinkled a little at the corners and lit up, how the hazel color got just a bit warmer and softer, lips that begged to be kissed…  He snapped out of his thoughts, feeling a little silly for losing himself like that, and flicked a quick glance at Abigail and Sebastian to make sure they hadn’t noticed.  Fortunately, their attention was completely on Sam and Lysander, and the both of them looked like they were going to hurt themselves trying not to laugh.

Lysander leaned forward just a tiny bit more, gently brushing a stray lock of hair out of Sam’s face, almost but not quite touching him, his voice deep and rich.  “I should be insulted, but now that I think of it, you’ve never had the privilege of my skills and attention, so you wouldn’t know.  I can’t be angry or annoyed.  Rather, I feel that I need to show you how special it _can_ be.  And how special you are as well…”  The last words were almost whispered, barely any space left between them, and once more Elliott again feared that he’d ruin the moment by laughing once he saw Sam’s face, as the younger man was completely lost in Lysander’s spell; leaning forward as well, hands on Lysander’s waist, lips slightly parted, and with a distant but happy look.  Before Sam could do anything else, the grin of mischief reasserted itself.  “And you totally failed your Willpower save.”

Somewhat confused, it took Sam a few seconds to remember where he was and what was going on, as well as his and Lysander’s relative positions.  Small squeaks came from Sebastian and Abigail as they tried their hardest to keep quiet, and Elliott’s smile was simply fond and amused.  Sam blinked a few times and then pouted with irritation.  “Oh, that’s cold, dude.  You know what?  TICKLES OF DOOM.”

Too close to get away, Lysander was helpless as Sam put an arm around his waist, pressing himself against him.  The smile vanished and was replaced with dread as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away.  “What?  No!  Shit!  Ahh!”

Due to proximity and leverage, Sam was in the perfect position to tickle without mercy, and he exacted his vengeance with glee.  Even though Lysander was larger and stronger, there wasn’t anything he could do without hurting his friend, and in a few seconds he was laughing too hard to fight back properly anyway.  Swearing comically through tears, he was freed once Sam had decided that his revenge was complete.  Sam swaggered away, stretching casually and yawning, and Lysander insulted him one final time as he completely missed trying to sit in a chair and landed on the floor.

Elliott strolled over to him and kissed the top of his head as he helped him to his feet.  “Come now, dear, you really did bring that upon yourself.”

As he wiped away tears and caught his breath, Lysander held onto Elliott for a few seconds as he found his balance again.  “Yeah, still totally worth it, though.  Sam, I wish you could have seen your face just then, oh wow.”  He giggled again, looking extremely amused.  “You were _totally_ into it for a moment.”

Having found a can of soda in his bag, Sam grinned at his friend, not the least bit bothered.  “I think I get the idea.  No wonder you got so much ass in college.  You are downright _hypnotic_.”

This produced a round of laughter from everyone, at which point they began getting ready for practice.  Haley and Alex showed up a little bit later, also expressing their delight at seeing Lysander healthy again, and Elliott sat on the piano bench a little way away to watch everyone’s interactions, strangely intrigued.

_How naturally he gathers them around himself.  Genuinely interested in them and their health, always encouraging and uplifting.  I cannot help but find myself an outsider to this group, despite their acceptance and welcoming of me, and I do not know how to rectify that without drastically changing who I am or being untrue to myself.  They have never been dismissive or unfriendly, but at the same time I feel as though I must retreat to the background.  My own background is so different from theirs, will I ever be able to properly relate to them?_

His thoughts were interrupted when he gasped and nearly fell off of the bench, having felt something unexpectedly cold against his cheek.  Sebastian huffed a quiet chuckle as he held out the can of coffee that he’d used on him a moment earlier.  “Hey, Beethoven, here.  Thought you could use something to drink while we got set up.  I called you a couple of times but you zoned out hard.  What’s on your mind?”

Taking the proffered can, he opened it and took a sip, surprised to like the slightly-sweetened coffee with cream.  “Ah, thank you, this is unexpectedly delicious.  Oh, I mean…  It is quite tasty-  Damn.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, prompting a noise of inquiry from Sebastian as he sipped his own drink.  A little embarrassed, Elliott held the can in both hands, looking around the room at his friends.  “I am trying to be more…relatable.  I come off as too stuffy and pompous, and I aspire to be more like Lysander in that-  Oh bugger, there I go again, that’s what I’m talking about.”  Rubbing the back of his neck, he stared at the floor, not sure how to continue.

Sebastian chuckled again and cuffed Elliott on the shoulder playfully.  “If we didn’t like you we wouldn’t be your friends, dude.  And you’re not pompous or a blowhard or anything.  You’re _you_.  We like you for who you are.  If you tried to be different you’d be, well, wrong.”  He sipped his coffee and shrugged.  “Look, you two are the writers.  You tell me what words to use.  In fact, we’re sometimes kinda intimidated whether we want to admit it or not.  You dress nicely, you speak with distinction, you’ve got good manners...”  Taking another sip, he grinned at Elliott.  “Hell, most of the time we’re not sure why you slum it with us.  You could have any company you want and you still want to hang out with us.  But you’re not desperate about it or trying too hard to be ‘cool.’  We should have reached out to you a lot sooner than we did, but we didn’t think you’d accept.”

Elliott momentarily forgot about his drink.  “That’s…  Really?  I never thought that…”  He smiled and shook his head.  “I never thought that I was worth knowing.  But Lysander helped me see that I was wrong about that.  And you’ve shown me that I am a friend worth having as well.  Thank you, Sebastian.”

“Any time.”  They clinked together their cans in a mock toast, and Sebastian was reminded of something.  “Oh, yeah, so when are you moving in with him?”

Yet again, Elliott was taken completely aback.  “I…  Half a moment, I think I missed part of the conversation somewhere.”

“Not really, it’s just that when you were taking care of him you looked really comfortable.  Like…” Sebastian finished the last of his coffee and swirled the last drops around the inside of the can as he thought.  “It’s not like you looked like a housewife or anything, but you looked completely at home.  You knew where everything was, you took care of all of the chores and cooking and stuff, and you looked out for him, making sure he had his meds when he needed them and kicking us out when Lys needed sleep.  To be honest, Sam, Abby, and I have a running bet going, but she’s totally convinced you’re gonna propose to him at the Feast of the Winter Star or something.  I keep telling her that she’s wrong, you’re probably gonna hold out a while longer, but still…  You looked happy, like you’d found your home and place in life, if that makes sense.”

Finishing his own coffee, Elliott held it loosely between his fingers as he watched Lysander and Sam standing at Sebastian’s synth, poking keys for tones as they looked over the music, trying to get the lyrics and harmony between them figured out.  “It’s that obvious?  I do want to move in, to share everything with him, to build a future.”  He remembered the shell in his pocket and smiled warmly.  “I cannot imagine life without him.  We have already spent so much time in each other’s company.  And beds.  Thus far, there is little that we have not yet shared, and our relationship only grows stronger.”

Sebastian clapped him on the back and took the empty cans as he stood, tossing them in the recycling bin.  “Best of luck to the both of you.  Not gonna lie, either, we’re all a bit jealous, too.  You two aren’t my type, but damn if I wouldn’t think twice if either of you propositioned me.”

 

A few hours later they all departed the community center, with Lysander and Elliott trudging south through the snow, though at least paths had been shoveled though the town square and other high-traffic areas.  The bridge over the river, however, only had their tracks from that morning across it, and as such they traversed it carefully, seeking to avoid the sort of fall that Elliott had taken the year previous.  Lysander wasted no time in taking off his coat and boots once indoors, then set about kindling a fire.  The cabin was decently insulated, but it had been unused the last few days, and as such there was a bit of a bite inside.  Elliott began pulling things out of the fridge and pantry to make dinner, but he paused when Lysander flopped on his back on the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace, as the fire had just caught and was crackling merrily.

“Much, _much_ better.  I’ll help you with food in a few, but I just want a few minutes to warm back up.  Mmm.  This is nice…”

Elliott couldn’t help but smile, and felt a romantic rush as he eased himself down near his partner, kissing a line from his shoulder to his ear.  Gasping, Lysander grabbed Elliott’s shirt with both hands, shivering at the touch.  Hips between Lysander’s legs, Elliott draped himself atop his partner, kissing him softly and toying with his hair.  He wasn’t intending to take this much further than simple touching and kissing, and Lysander seemed to be in the same mood; just a bit of amorous warmth between them in private.  He felt fingers slide into his own hair, playing with it as well, and Lysander pulled away to pull him down.

“I love you,” he whispered, hugging him and melting into his touch.

Elliott wrapped both arms around him, squeezing him tightly.  “I love you, too, my dearest.”

 

The next morning Elliott woke first, pulling the covers back over them a bit more.  It wasn’t cold in there, but it was much nicer under the blankets, and he wanted to lay there a little longer before they had to get up.  Lysander was still sound asleep, and Elliott took the opportunity to run his hands over his partner’s body, memorizing every curve and line and crevice.  Gentle as it was, it still woke the other man, and he pressed gentle kisses to his cheek as he snuggled closer against Elliott.

“Hey love, sleep well?”

“That I did.  Yourself?”

Yawning, Lysander pulled the covers even more closely over them.  “Slept great.  Much better than I’d had the last couple of days.  Though I hate to be a killjoy, I need to get back home so I can deal with the garden.”

“That isn’t a bother, I have tasks to accomplish myself.  Let us shower and be about our separate ways.”

 

Their “separate ways” happened after a nice, hot shower, and a nice, hot cup of coffee, after which Lysander packed his bag, grabbed Resonance, kissed Elliott, and darted outside, swearing softly at the cold.  Elliott shook his head and finished getting geared up, and upon ensuring that the shell was in his pocket, left the cabin.  He followed the usual track north across the river, but instead of following the road into town like usual, he made a turn west, along the road that ran in front of Sam’s and Haley’s homes.  At this point in the morning they were all going to be asleep, so his errand would still be a secret a bit longer.

Passing Marnie’s ranch, the small house by the river poked out of the foliage just south of it, and Elliott trudged through the snow, following the path that Leah had dug out but been slightly snowed back in overnight.  He knocked on the door, almost not getting the third one in before the door swung inward.  “Elliott!  C’mon in!  I’ve got tea on.  You said you’ve got a project for me?”  She hugged him fondly and broke free to put the teapot on the table, next to the cups, honey, and cream.

He hung up his coat and scarf, removing the shell from his pocket as he took a seat at the table while Leah poured them both a cup.  “That I do.  Do you recall the legend of the Mermaid Pendant?”

“Oh?  Yeah, that’s an old legend, but-”  She saw the shell in his hand and put her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, and bounced in her chair.  “Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, eeee!  You’re really going to ask him?”

He put the shell on the table in front of her, blushing a little, but still smiling, and added honey and cream to his tea.  “I’m not sure when, but yes.  I’ve not asked his parents for their blessing, but they and my parents have got along well, and mother and father seem fond of him already.  I’m…  I was thinking…  You know that guitar pick necklace that he always wears?”

Leah now wore a look of intense focus, holding the shell in both hands and rubbing her thumbs over it, turning it this way and that in the light.  “Hmm, yeah, that would…  If I use the…  Then that should…”  She looked up at him, looking determined and excited.  “I’ve got some dremel tools that I’ve been dying to use and this will be _perfect_.  And a guitar pick?  That’s…  I think I could get _three_ out of this.  That’ll give me a bit to work with in case something goes wrong or I wanna try a few different things.  But it needs a bit…more.  Something personal.”

Taking a long drink of his tea, Elliott considered this, then blushed again.  Leah noticed this and prompted him to speak his mind.  “Ah, that is…  It is a little silly, but…  I was thinking of something like a sunflower and a rose, but that might be a bit much, or silly, or-”

Gasping again, she clapped and giggled.  “Oh, I know _exactly_ what to do!  This is going to be the best engagement gift ever.”

“Brilliant!  This won’t be a problem for you?  Oh, and of payment, what do you charge for this sort of thing?”

She shook her head and drank her tea with one hand as she examined the shell in the other.  “Not a problem at all.  I need something new to give me a break, and I tend to charge based on the difficulty of the commission, length of time it takes, the like.  Once I get my tools and do a bit of tinkering I can get you a quote.  You don’t mind waiting until tonight?”

“Take your time!  I am in no hurry,” he reassured, “this is a project that cannot be rushed, and a unique one at that.  Whatever you need, in resources, time, or payment, name it and it will be yours.”

With one last glance and nod, she put the shell on the table and smiled at him.  “I’ll message you later tonight, then.  And don’t worry, I won’t blab, this will be our secret.  Can I go ahead and say ‘congratulations’ right now?”

For the third time Elliott blushed, but laughed all the same.  “I think that it would be appropriate, yes, and you get the honor of being the first to do so.”

“Well!  Congratulations in advance, then.”  She put a hand over his, her smile as wide as it could possibly be.  “You two are great for each other, and I’m so happy for you both.  You deserve this.”

Elliott was without a reply for a moment, but nodded and put a hand over hers in return.  “Thank you, for your kind words, for what you are about to make, and for being a friend even when I neglected visiting with you.”

“It’s okay.  You’re worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	71. New and Old Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //So... Yeah. Hi. It's been...way too damn long. Suffice to say and the short of it is that I'm honestly rather surprised to still be alive, much less faffing about. It's been a difficult year and I burned out HARD on pretty much everything; mentally, physically, emotionally, professionally, you name it. Worse, I've wanted to get back to this story, to finish it out like all of you deserve, but the only thing that hurt more than trying to write was being unable to. I just physically _couldn't_. Things have gotten a bit better, they're a bit less rubbish, and I'm finally sorting out a few things, letting me dedicate a bit of time and energy to writing. I've got a great support crew that's been amazing, and they've pushed me to get back into this. My sincere and MANY apologies to all of you who were reading this, you deserve an ending and DAMN IT, I will get there, somehow. In the meantime, this is my birthday gift to myself and all of you, here's hoping that we don't have to wait another year for the next chapter, yeah? Not sure when the next one will be up, but thousand steps, journey, blah blah and all that. Cheers, you magnificent people, and thank you SO MUCH for coming back to read this.//

Elliott returned home and exhaled loudly as he leaned against the closed door.  He hadn’t expected to be so nervous about this, but at the same time, it _was_ a large step.  He remembered something he’d said at Leah’s and felt a cold stab of worry, realizing that he’d forgotten something, and finished hanging up his gear, then took off his boots to put on house slippers.  Making another cup of coffee (no, it was _not_ to take more time, it really wasn’t!), he pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment, working up the courage to call.

A bracing sip of coffee later and he was dialing a familiar number, which was answered after only a couple of rings.  “Elliott!  Dear!  How are things?  It’s been a while once more.”

Smiling, Elliott relaxed a little.  This wasn’t going to be bad, of course not!  “Hello mother, I’ve been remiss again.  Busy, I will admit, Lysander just recovered from a cold, and I had been taking care of him.”

“Oh dear, the poor man, whatever’s been going around has been rather unpleasant.  Not as bad as the flu, but this particular cold seems to be more aggressive than usual.”

“It was, but he was able to get over it in a few days.  I’ve been lucky so far, I’ve not caught it, and neither have our friends, but even so, it is my hope that he is the only unlucky one.”  He took a deep breath and a sip of coffee, which prompted a polite inquiry from his mother.  “I…  That is…  How does one ask for the parents of one’s interest for their acceptance…  No, I mean…”  He pinched the bridge of his nose and started over.  “I wish to propose to Lysander, eventually, but I want to talk to his family first.”

A delighted gasp and warm laughter surprised him.  “Oh!  Lynn and Art will be simply _thrilled_.  There’s no need for ceremony with them, simply state your intention, dear.  They’re deliciously simple and forward about most things, and I’m rather glad that you contacted me first so that I can find earplugs.  I’m quite certain that the noise she will make will send dogs barking and etch one’s windows.”

Elliott laughed unexpectedly at this observation, feeling much more confident about his decision.  “I haven’t set a date yet, and I’m working on an engagement gift right now, but…  It feels right.  I was worried that it was too soon, that I am rushing things, but at the same time…”

“From everything that I have seen and heard, and all that you have told, you aren’t rushing at all,” she reassured, “this is a decision that you have deliberated upon and made after careful consideration.  If my opinion is welcome and carries any weight, I think that he has been wonderful for you.  Everything that you have told me about him, and all that I know of him and his family tell me that he is already a treasured companion, and that the two of you will be happy and successful together.  His love for you is genuine, and his parents make it a point to inquire after you whenever we converse.”

Feeling a lump well up in his throat, Elliott took a sip of coffee to wash it back down.  “Thank you.  I am much more confident about my decisions now, but at the same time, this is a very large step and I wanted to be certain that I was doing the right thing the right way.”

“You are, dear, and you have our full love and support.  All of us.  And now I think of it…”  She trailed off as she apparently looked at something.  “If you call up Lynn and Art right now they should both be home for a little while longer, this is as good a time as any to ask.”

“I shall then.  Would it be rude to break this off to do so now?”

“Not in the slightest!”  Another supportive chuckle, and Elliott knew that they were both wearing the same smile.  “Best do it while you have the time, motivation, and opportunity.  Besides, I get to gloat later that I got to find out first!”

Yet again Elliott laughed, glad to hear this surprisingly cheeky side of his mother.  They exchanged pleasantries one last time and Elliott scrolled through his contacts list as he topped off his coffee.  Taking a deep breath to steady himself yet again, he called a number, and his pulse skipped a beat when it was answered with, “H’lo!  Lynn here, what’s up?”

“Good morning Mrs.-  Drat, hello, Lynn, it’s Elliott.”

“Oh?  Oh!  Sweetie!  How _are_ you?  It’s been way too long, what can we do for you?”

He took a sip of coffee and sat down.  “Do you and Arthur have a few minutes?  I wish to ask something.  Ah, and have you the time for a video call?”

“Yeah, totally!  Lemme get that set up real fast and call Art over.”  As promised, her voice became slightly distant as both of them pulled away from the phone to initiate a video conference, and he heard her summon her husband to her side.  In moments, both of them were present, sitting at their own table, and looking curious but enthusiastic.  “There we go!  So, what d’you need?  Are things okay over there?”

Holding his cup in both hands to steady himself, Elliott nodded.  “I had hoped to do this in person, but there is no good way to go about it and keep it a secret.  If I may, I seek your permission and blessing in asking for Lysander’s hand in marriage.”

Both of them were speechless with surprise for a moment, but it lasted only a moment before Lynn hopped out of her seat, bouncing on her toes and making a high-pitched “eeeee!” of delight.  Arthur watched her with barely-restrained amusement as she picked up one of the cats who had wandered by, gave it a hug as she spun around, put down the slightly-stunned feline, then sat back down, her hands over her mouth and eyes sparkling with tears.

Shaking his head at his wife, Arthur turned back to the screen.  “What she is trying to say is yes, we approve, and we are elated to have you as part of the family.  Have you set a date to propose?”

“I have not yet.  I am working on an engagement gift, and-”  He paused when Lynn made the happy squeak again and continued with a smile.  “And I wanted to confer with you first.  It seems a bit silly, but I had been a little worried that you might not approve, at least this soon.”

Lynn suddenly looked stern and jabbed at the screen with a firm finger.  “Elliott, you are a precious sweetie and you have done amazing things for our son.  …And to be honest, you’re probably the reason he’s still alive.”  Elliott was shocked at this admission, as well as the now-serious expressions that they now wore.  “He was hurting really badly when he moved out there, and he hid it from everyone.  He always does.  But once he told us that night about what had happened between him and Allen, well…  We realized how close we had come to losing him.  But with the way you supported him and everything, you were the only one he’d ever opened up to like that before.  Thank you, Elliott.”

For a few seconds Elliott was speechless before he nodded and rubbed his eyes to dismiss tears that he hadn’t realized had happened.  “I was unaware that I had made and left such an impact.”

“You’ve done more than you know, Elliott,” Arthur chuckled, squeezing Lynn’s hand, “and you’ve made our son happier than we’ve ever seen him.  All that we ask is that you both have a proper ceremony, as Lynn has been dying to plan a wedding, and I’m certain that your parents will have an aneurysm if you elope.”

Elliott laughed and sipped his coffee, no longer apprehensive.  “I promise that I will inform everyone of our date once I finally ask.  As I said, I am working with a friend on a proper gift.”  He blushed a little and toyed with his cup.  “I suppose that I am somewhat old-fashioned or peculiar in that respect, but he deserves nothing less.”

“Whatever it is I know that he’ll love it,” smiled Lynn, somehow managing to bounce in place, “though I do need to know, who is going to wear the dress?”

Bursting into laughter, Elliott was unable to reply for a minute.  They conversed a little longer once he’d caught his breath, and by the time he hung up he felt as though he were almost floating.  When he and Lysander caught up later he couldn’t help but sweep him up to dance for a little while, which surprised the copper-haired man, but he wasn’t going to argue at all.

 

Fortunately for the band, Lysander had recovered in time for them to have one last practice before a gig that weekend, the same place that they’d performed in Zuzu City.  Setup was much easier this time around, and everyone was much more confident.  Except for Lysander, who was never _not_ confident.  The crowd was bigger than the last time, and Elliott felt a surge of pride when some members of the audience joined in on the chorus of some songs.  They had already received not only that much a following, but one that listened to their recording enough to memorize some of the lyrics.

“Thank you, all of you,” Lysander smiled, putting down the bass and picking up Resonance, “we are honored that all of you asked to have us back, and it seems that many of you brought friends.”  He paused to let a ripple of laughter fade as he slipped the guitar strap over his head.  “Since we were last here much has happened, and because of all of you I was able to reconnect with an old friend, one I thought I’d lost.  That I’d pushed away because I had done something terrible.  These lyrics were originally written in memory of that, and though those memories have been replaced with happier ones, the lyrics will remain the same, in memory of that which allowed me to find happiness sand closure.  Our last song of the night is my legacy; old memories and new experiences, a song that calls through time and binds together all who hear it.  This is ‘Stardew Valley.’”

Again, like some of their other pieces, several voices joined in, but Elliott nearly fumbled when he saw Allen in the front row, singing along, and a glance at Lysander showed that he knew his friend was there as well.  Once their set was over he saw Allen and a couple of others make their way toward the back, and Elliott smiled to himself.  They left the stage to wild applause, going backstage to greetings from the group that had left moments earlier.  Lysander was happy to see Allen, but appeared surprised to see the others with him.

“I…  Shit, I didn’t expect any of you guys, either.  Not after I…  Y’know…”

One of them, a man of similar height and build to Alex (and a similar haircut as well) stepped over and gave Lysander a warm hug.  “Allen told us everything, Lys, it’s okay.  Hell, we all thought you were pissed at _us_.  Especially me.  I’m the one that knocked you on your ass and tried to choke you out.  I didn’t wanna, but holy shit, you were kicking all of our asses.”

Lysander relaxed into the hug and nodded into his shoulder.  “Thanks, David.  I’m sorry that you had to do that, I-”

“I told you, it’s okay,” he interrupted, squeezing him a little, “he also filled us in on what you’ve been doing while here and stuff.  We’re just glad that you’re safe and happy.  When Allen caught up with us after he got out of the hospital and told us how he’d found you…  We legit thought you were dead.  We were just about to try to get ahold of your parents when we found out that you’d survived, but since you never tried to reach out to us, well, we all kinda figured that you hated us, especially once we learned you’d moved to Pelican Town.  Thought you had moved to get away from this shit.”

Shaking his head, Lysander squeezed David back, then broke off to hug the other person that had come with him and Allen.  The rather plus-sized woman in fetching and stylish gothic-styled clothes and makeup kissed his cheek, somehow not leaving a vibrant red lip-print.  “Everyone in the Players misses you, Lys,” she sighed, brushing long, black hair out of mascara- and eyeliner-accented eyes, “we haven’t been able to replace you, and we don’t wanna.  But, with you living all the way out there…”

“Sorry, Chiffon, I do want to come back at some point, and I promise I’ll find the time to do one more performance one of these days.  It’s only been in this last month that I realized that none of us actually hated each other.  We all just thought we did.”

David smiled at Elliott and offered a hand that was accepted immediately.  “And he mentioned you, too.  Elliott, right?  Said you two had hooked up, started a band, and wrote a book?  Crazy awesome.  Oh, not sure if Lys mentioned, I’m David, we dated some time ago.”

“To be honest, while he has confided in me the fact that he has had a long list of lovers, he has not disclosed their names.  I respect that, as while knowing of his physical intimacy with others is important, so is their privacy.”  Elliott’s statement was received with a grin and a firm handshake.  “While we all lament the reasons for his departure to his current home, I am certain that we all are glad to know that he is safe and well.”

“Damn right,” Chiffon snorted, “can’t let a man with a tongue like that go to waste!”

This caused laughter among the small group, and only then did they notice Sam staring at them with fascination.  “You were living the rockstar life before you even became one.”

Chiffon winked at him and grinned. “You can, too, y’know, you’ve already got a head start on an entourage.  I wouldn’t mind dating a rock star, and it sounds like you’re interested in all of the perks of that lifestyle.”

Not expecting the nuclear-grade approach and from someone very confident and experienced, Sam’s deer-in-headlights look amused everyone until he squeaked, “I’m already seeing someone!”  At the laughter it produced from his and Lysander’s friends, he turned red and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “Well, yeah.  I am.  Penny’s awesome and I don’t wanna jack it up, y’know?”  He grunted as Lysander hugged him around the shoulders and ruffled his hair, which he tried to sort out with one hand once he had pushed himself free.

“Forget jacked up, we gotta pack up,” Alex remarked as he joined them, “we need to-  Oh hey, Dave, didn’t think I’d see you here.”

The other man in question blinked and waved at Alex, sharing a fistbump when he approached.  “Just catching up with Lys.  What, he dated you, too?  That’s like, what, half the gridball team?”

“First, it wasn’t that much of the team,” Lysander huffed, folding his arms across his chest, “and second, he’s my cousin.  How do _you_ two know each other?”

Alex mimicked the hug and ruffle that Lysander had done to Sam and laughed.  “He’s captain of the team, you doofus.  Dude knows his stuff.  And…  Oh, he’s the dude who…”

Lysander and David shared a somewhat sad glance, and the musician shrugged.  “It’s in the past now.  We’ve all made up and reconnected, and even before Allen dropped into town I never blamed Dave for knocking my stupid ass out like that.  Just like I’ve never blamed you for doing the same.”

David gaped at Lysander before turning his attention to Alex.  “Whoa, you had to-  The hell, what happened?!”  He cleared his throat and held up his hands just as he realized what he’d said.  “No, sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Lysander shrugged again, “pretty much the same thing as the first time.  I lost my shit over something stupid because I was being stupid and he had to drop me before I hurt anyone.”  He grunted and rubbed the top of his head as Alex and Sebastian rapped him on the top of the head at the same time, but before he could protest Elliott hugged him around the waist from behind.

“No.  You are not stupid, and it was not for a stupid reason.  You were under a lot of stress that you did not feel that you could express to us, and I provoked you into lashing out at me.  You carry no fault for that, and I will remind you every time until you finally accept it.”  He kissed the top of Lysander’s head and squeezed him fondly.  “Further, it ended up changing a number of things for the better.  Do not be afraid of your fire, my dear, guide and shape it.  You are capable of magnificent things and I look forward to many years of creating them with you.”

Lysander smiled and leaned back against his partner, for a moment forgetting their audience.  Elliott did as well, enjoying the feeling of the other man in his arms, only breaking out of their combined reverie when Haley appeared next.  At this point the socialization would have to be put on hold to get everything sorted and put away, so for the next half an hour they busied themselves with it all, assisted by Allen, Chiffon, and David.  The extra help was not only welcome, but the chance to converse and learn more about each other was taken well advantage of.  Lysander’s old friends were added to one of the chat groups that he and his new friends used, so that they could all keep in better contact with each other.

“I wanna kick your ass for getting me sick, but it sounds like you had it just as bad so I can’t complain,” Lysander teased, playfully shoving Allen.  The other man laughed and shoved back, following the group to the main room again so that they could mingle with their audience.  The confidence stayed with the band as they filtered through the crowd, and when they finally sat down for drinks together they invited their three visitors to join them.  They stayed late into the night, almost a little too late, but they were having such a good time that nearly everyone forgot the time.  Elliott and Lysander saw everyone off safely before getting on Morgenlied and returning to Pelican Town themselves.

Once safely home Elliott began to take off his riding gear, but just as he was removing his gloves Lysander pinned him to the door, kissing him very deeply and grinding up against him.  He gasped for breath once Lysander pulled away to nibble his neck, which he had exposed when undoing Elliott’s riding jacket while he was occupied moments earlier.  “Not that I…am complaining, my dear…but you seem quite…amorous.”

Lysander growled happily and traced the shell of his partner’s ear as he kissed him again.  “Of course.  I caught and made up with more of my old friends, had a hell of a good gig, and you are freakin’ hot in those clothes, so naturally I wanna get you out of them.”

It was difficult to argue with his logic, particularly since he was also getting quite stimulated from the attention, and if he was honest with himself, he felt quite good about seeing the slightly envious yet approving looks from his partner’s friends.  Growling back, he squeezed Lysander’s bottom and gripped a fistful of hair.  “Very well.  It seems that it is incumbent upon me to wear you out and I believe that I am fully up to the task.  You will be stripped of all garments before you reach the bedroom because I will take you the moment I have the means to mount and use you.”

This was apparently the response that Lysander wanted, as he had _both_ of them out of their gear in a very impressive amount of time, and a very long time later Elliott dozed off with an arm thrown over Lysander’s shoulders, which now bore new bite and scratch marks that the blonde man would feel rather embarrassed about in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


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